


but when he walks in i am loved - i am loved

by nosecoffee



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anne is kind of an ass in this, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Comedy, Domestic Bliss, Domesticity, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, For My Standards, Friends to Lovers, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, I live in Australia, I thought I could get through this without writing angst but I was wrong, Longing, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Pining, Relationship Negotiation, Romance, Romantic Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, They Both Been Drinking Their Dumb Bitch Juice, but that's on brand for her, don't @ me about the technicalities of the american college system, i'll shut up now, so I'm just guessing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-19 21:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: (me and my husband, we’re doing better)*“Marry me.” Anne drops a plate. She barely reacts to that - Marilla can berate her later, for now Anne has a very good reason to have broken her expensive china. She whirls on him.Gilbert’s not kneeling or anything. He's just standing there, in her kitchen doorway, with a painfully earnest look on his face. “Are you kidding?” She says, laughing nervously.He shakes his head.





	but when he walks in i am loved - i am loved

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Me and My Husband" by Mitski (seemed topical)
> 
> This took me months to write, so please be gentle with me.

It's been a while since she's hosted anything at Green Gables, but with Marilla promising she’ll be fine at Rachel’s for the night, and enough liquor to kill a horse safely in the kitchen cabinet, Anne’s confident she can do this.

Diana signed her up for this one. Something about Ruby wanting to have a sleepover like the ones they had when they were thirteen and still obsessed over boys. Something about Josie and Gilbert breaking up again for, like, the fifth time and her being heartbroken, again, and needing to get drunk. Anne thinks it's a stupid reason to get drunk, but she doesn't really get to talk on the matter. 

(Josie won't even talk about why they broke up, this time, so it's got to be bad, since she usually screams the reason from the rooftops. The breakup is usually her idea, but right now, she seems actually upset.)

So Anne does it, she hosts a sleepover. She clears up any breakable vases and puts them in a safe place. She gets cookie dough and ice cream and pizza, and readies herself for the coming onslaught of yelling and drunken _ I love you’s _. 

Diana is the first to arrive, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and a smile on her lips. “Don't look like I'm here to murder you, Anne,” she tuts, as Anne lets her inside. “This is a sleepover not an execution.” 

“With a drunk Josie?” Anne replies, closing the door behind her, “It might as well be.” 

“Well, if _ that’s _ your outlook on tonight.” Diana huffs, setting her bag down by the TV. “Ruby and Jane are getting driven here by Josie, so there's no hope of you just slowly settling in. You need to be in a sleepover mindset as quickly as possible.”

“There's no way of that happening, Diana.” Anne informs her, haughtily. “I plan to be sober _ and _ bored tonight. I'll be watching _ Finding Nemo _ over Josie’s shoulder as she rants about whatever Gilbert did, this time." 

Diana brightens, looking practically manic at the mention of Gilbert and what Josie calls his “War Crimes”. “Ooh, that might work.” She comments, softly, to herself.

“_What _ might work?” Anne asks, rolling her eyes, and fluffing an over-fluffed throw pillow, on the couch. “Don't be cryptic, Diana; that's against house rules.” It’s true. Marilla had Rachel do a cross-stitch, and had it framed.

“I know exactly what will get you into a sleepover mindset,” Diana says, spinning Anne around to face her, and grinning, “and it's what Gilbert did to make Josie end things.”

Anne can't pretend she's not a little curious, and she knows Diana notices, because she grins. “What did he do?” She sighs, defeated 

“He asked her to marry him.” Diana says, grinning wide. Anne’s jaw drops.

“He did _ not_!” She yells, and then laughs. It's so stupid. Gilbert never would have. He had to have an ulterior motive - which is not to say that Anne thinks Josie isn't marriage material, it's just that Gilbert doesn't seem the type to ask his on-again-off-again girlfriend of who knows how many years to marry him, abruptly. “No way!” 

“He did!” Diana giggles, amused. “I was on Skype call with her when he just walked in, dropped to his knees and asked her to marry him. Didn't even have a ring, poor bugger.” 

“Well, you know that it's hard for him to afford anything, these days.” Anne points out. An engagement ring would not be high up on his list of priorities. She's really surprised. Why didn't he tell her he was going to pull a stunt like that? They’re in some of the same classes, he would have had ample time to lean over and tell her he was going to do this. But he didn't, which just gives Anne more incentive to believe that the action was less than premeditated.

“True,” Diana agrees. “Josie was embarrassed, and hung up the call almost immediately after it happened, so I only got like half the scoop, but I imagine, after a few drinks, we’ll get the whole story.”

Anne stops what she's doing immediately to turn on her friend, sporting a gape where Diana is sporting a devilish smile. “Diana Barry, you did _ not _ engineer this night to interrogate poor Josie about her ex’s poor decisions.” She admonishes.

“Oh, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, I think you’ll find that’s exactly what I did.” Diana replies, nodding furiously, and hurrying over to Anne, hands outstretched.

Anne takes them, hesitantly. “I want to be angry. I _ should _ be angry. I _ might _ get angry.” She warns Diana, but Diana just giggles.

“This is going to be fun.” She informs Anne, releasing her, and flitting about, attempting to help Anne tidy. “And I promise I won't interrogate Josie until we’re all, thoroughly wasted.”

Anne shakes her head. “Ah, don’t make me break out the Emily Dickinson.”

“What was it again?” Diana ponders. “‘Wild nights, wild nights’?”

“_Were I with thee, wild nights would be our luxury._” Anne agrees, loftily, pondering how she went from in depth analysis of poems and modules on first grader math to preparing her home for a night of drinking and gossip with old friends. It's weird to think that she doesn't feel grown up at all, and yet Gilbert Blythe feels grown up enough to marry.

~

After a feast of pizza and sangria, Diana brings out the proper alcohol and they drink hard to _ The Lion King_, on a scratched DVD. It bothers Anne way more than it really should. 

Jane’s brought Truth or Dare in card form and now they're sitting on the floor, in a circle, sipping their various poison’s of choice and trading secrets.

“Truth or dare, Anne,” Ruby giggles, weirdly tipsy on her third rum and Coke. 

“Oh, truth, why not?” Anne replies, sipping her wine. She's not into the hard-drinking stuff, nowadays. She was, for a while, in her first year of college, when the only people she knew in Charlottetown were Gilbert and Josie, and hanging out with them was sickening, so she made drinking buddies. 

Ruby giggles and scans the Truth card she picks up. “What's the first thing you would do if you were invisible?” 

Anne clicks her tongue. “Wear clothes? That would look weird, wouldn't it?” Diana rolls her eyes and Anne sticks her tongue out at her, trying to think of a better answer. “Or graffiti something. Can't catch a vandal if you can't see them.”

Ruby discards the card and gestures for Anne to go, as she picks up her half-empty glass. Anne turns to Diana, eyes glinting. “Diana, truth or dare?” 

Diana grins at her. “Dare.”

Anne hums to herself, picking up a card. “Alright, I dare you to let Jane write something on your forehead. I'll go get a Sharpie.” 

Anne hops up and rushes into the kitchen, rummaging through the pocket in the bottom of Marilla’s customised calendar to find a Sharpie. She can hear Jane, Ruby and Josie giggling to themselves, obviously trying to pick something to write on Diana’s forehead. 

When she returns, Diana looks kinda pissed at her, but in that tipsy _ I-still-love-you _way. Anne passes the Sharpie to Jane and settles back down on her cushion, wine back in hand, ready for whatever she has prepared. 

Jane taps the Sharpie against her lower lip for a bit, thinking, before leaning forward with a grin, uncapping the pen, and beginning to write. Anne leans forward in anticipation. _ Honk if you love me. _

Anne is half disappointed, half weirdly touched. She dismisses it when the three other girls on her living room floor begin to say _ honk _over and over and Anne passes Diana her phone, front facing camera on. Diana laughs. Good enough for Anne. 

It's Diana’s turn after that. 

“Josie, truth or dare.” She says, giving her vodka cruiser a swirl in her glass and downing the rest of it in one gulp.

“Dare,” Josie replies, looking very confident. “I'm not a coward.” Anne snorts at that proclamation.

“Alright,” Diana hums, picking up a Dare card. She grins when she reads the words. “Josie, I dare you to kiss Anne. With tongue.”

Anne nearly spits out her mouthful of wine and locks eyes with Josie. They have a competitive streak long enough to tie them up in, and as long as Anne’s known her, Josie has never backed down from a challenge. The only reason she hesitates now, Anne supposes, is because her breakup with Gilbert is so fresh in her mind.

But that’s when Jane starts to hum _ Kiss Da Girl _and Anne pushes away the hesitation. “C’mon, Josie.” She says, nudging her thigh with her foot. “Thought you weren’t a coward.”

Josie goes bright red. “I’m _ not _.” She insists, and leans across the circle, grabbing Anne by the back of her neck and tugging their faces together. She’s already pretty tipsy, so it’s not as though Anne was expecting a fantastic kiss, but it’s messy. Josie tastes overwhelmingly like sangria, when she inserts her tongue, per the instructions of the dare, and with the fading taste of hawiian pizza behind that, Anne tries not to gag.

Only a moment later, Josie releases her, and sits back on her heels. “Give me something harder next time.” She says with a grin, and Diana whoops, while giving Anne a coy look. Anne gives her the finger, and then turns to watch Josie cause some mayhem.

~

“I think I might be gay.” Josie says, later. Diana’s drooling on Anne’s shoulder. Anne turns to look at her. 

“What?” Anne asks. Ruby and Jane are asleep on their blow up mattresses.

“I mean. It’s not like everything was fine. With Gilbert, I mean.” Josie goes on, completely failing to clarify. She looks less drunk than before. More sleepy. Anne has a feeling she doesn't want context, but is about to get some, anyway. “Like when we had sex…It was fine, you know? Got a bit boring after a while, and I don’t want to say I was disappointed, but it could have been better. I don’t know. I just think that I might like women too, you know?” 

“Why are you telling _ me_?” Anne asks, bewildered. Josie’s always been pretty cagey about the inner workings of her and Gilbert’s relationship, but it seems like this is officially it, there's no getting back together this time. Also Anne doesn't want to know what Josie and Gilbert’s sex life was like. 

“I've got to tell someone, and I feel like telling the other girls would just be embarrassing. You wouldn't judge me, Anne. Would you? You get it, right?”

Anne thinks Josie’s completely lost her mind if she thinks Anne’s gonna judge her for maybe coming out while she’s drunk. What’s confusing is her bringing up her sex life with Gilbert, which Anne doesn’t need to know about. Not because she’s embarrassed by sex or anything, it’s just because it’s Josie. And _ Gilbert _. Knowing anything about sex with Gilbert is nauseating, truly.

And it’s not like Anne hasn’t had sex. She has; she's not some blushing virgin. Her first year at college, she'd still been mooning over Gilbert from afar, and befriended Roy Gardner at a bar down by the waterfront, near campus. After a bit of drinking with their fake IDs, he'd coaxed her into bed.

Anne officially broke it off with him after a year of falling into bed together, and an equal amount of walks of shame on both their parts. None of her friends ever met Roy, and Anne likes to pretend that part of her life never happened. Not even Diana knows about him. 

“Look, Josie, I think you really need to take a break from relationships, work out where you fit. Talking to me about it isn't really gonna get you anywhere.” Anne advises, and freezes when Diana shifts against her side.

Josie grimaces but in a kind of _ I guess you’re right _way. “I suppose you’re not wrong.” She says, and then her eyes slip shut, and Anne counts maybe thirty seconds before snoring starts up. She hopes Josie doesn’t remember the conversation in the morning. That’s the last thing she needs.

~ 

It's two pm, and Diana left an hour ago. Anne’s finishing cleaning up the living room from the drunken carnage that was the night before when there’s a knock at the door. Anne assumes it’s Ruby, back to collect her underwear, which she left on the bathroom floor, post-shower, and opens it immediately. 

Only to find Gilbert Blythe standing on the other side. Anne raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you're looking for Josie, she left two hours ago.” She informs him.

“Josie was here?” He replies, looking bewildered.

“Last night.” Anne fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Not to be rude, but why are you here?”

Gilbert shuffles on the spot, looking nervous. “I came to ask for a favour.”

“What kind of favour?” Anne asks, intrigued.

“A big one.” He says. 

She purses her lips, sizing him up. He looks really apprehensive. Whatever he’s about to ask her must be big. “You're sure you're asking the right person?” Anne questions, ushering him inside. It’s rude to make someone stand on your porch. _ Be a good hostess_, yells Marilla’s voice in her head.

Gilbert marches inside with purpose. Anne follows him, skeptically, into the kitchen. “This is important and I trust you.” He says.

She snorts, “Boy, you really must be desperate to be coming to me for help.” Anne opens the dishwasher, and begins to unstack it. “Alright, what is it?”

“Marry me.” Anne drops a plate. She barely reacts to that - Marilla can berate her later, for now Anne has a very good reason to have broken her expensive china. She whirls on him.

Gilbert’s not kneeling or anything. He's just standing there, in her kitchen doorway, with a painfully earnest look on his face. “Are you kidding?” She says, laughing nervously. 

He shakes his head. 

“Oh my god, you're _ serious_. Jesus Christ.” More nervous laughter. Anne runs her fingers through the hair along her scalp, ruining her flyaway hairdo. She clears her throat, eyes narrowing, “Is this because Josie said no?”

Gilbert bites his lip, “It…factors in.”

“I'm your _ rebound_?” Not nervous laughter, anymore. Hysterical laughter. This is hysterical, she is hysterical. This cannot actually be happening, can it? She’s twenty-one. So is he. She’s known him since they were twelve. This is insane. Anne braces herself on the kitchen bench and addresses him with her eyes trained on the floor. “You know, Gilbert, when you ask someone to marry them and they say no, going to another of your friends and asking them to marry you is _ not _ the right thing to do. You take some down time, you _ don't _make impulsive decisions-”

“This isn't an impulsive decision,” Gilbert protests, sounding exasperated and actually a little upset, “or a rebound, you're not-”

“It's also not a favour! It's a commitment!” Anne points out, stepping towards him so she can jab his shoulder with her pointer finger. “And if I'm not an impulse decision then why did you ask Josie on Monday? It's _ Wednesday_! You don't take that little time to make a decision like this!”

“If I knew you were going to take it like this I never would have asked.” Gilbert mutters, turning away from her and massaging his temple as if he feels a headache coming on. 

“You don't even know if I'm dating someone at the moment!” She laughs, raising her hands above her head. 

His eyes snap to hers, and Anne must be imagining the tinge of hurt in them as he asks, “Are you?”

“No!” His shoulders untense. She refuses to read into it. “But you wouldn't know, because you didn't ask! You just proposed like it was no big deal!” Gilbert opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off, crying, “Surprise! It's a big deal! And anyway, why are you asking me? Why don't you ask _ Moody _ or something?”

“Moody’s dating someone at the moment,” Gilbert responds, instantly. “And he’s studying in New York.” 

“Oh, great,” Anne folds her arms over her chest, defensively, “so I wasn't even, like, your _ second _ choice?”

He narrows his brow, “First you're offended that I asked you in the first place, now you're offended I didn't ask you _ sooner_?”

“Why did you even propose? Why are you desperate to get married?” Anne gasps, mockingly, “Are you pregnant and trying to protect your honour?” 

“Fuck _ off_, Anne,” he glares. 

“I won't.” Anne grins. It falls quickly. He looks rather put out, and not just in a _ second refusal _ kind of way. “Why _ did _ you propose to me?” 

She watches him purse his lips, staring through the kitchen window instead of at her, and for all her attentiveness is still mildly surprised when he answers, “It's my house.” 

“Your house?” Anne frowns. “Don't you live in an apartment?”

“My dad’s house, Anne. In Avonlea. My uncle George is saying that in my father’s will, the house goes to him, unless I have a spouse or a child.” Ah, she sees now. His desperation makes a bit of sense. “I was going to move back in when I get my degree and get a job at the Avonlea school. But that doesn’t matter as much as keeping it away from my relatives. They want to flip it. Anne, that's the house I grew up in.” 

“God, Gilbert,” Anne sighs, running a hand across her face, “I'm going to need a better reason to marry you than to save your childhood home.”

“Would you get married to save Green Gables?” Is that even a question?

“In a heartbeat.” She answers, immediately, and winces at his raised eyebrow. 

“Then you get it.” Gilbert states. It’s true that they have similar opinions and similar states of mind. It’s why they butt heads so often. It’s why a marriage between them would never work. “If you do this for me, I'll owe you one. Plus, consider the financial benefits.”

She stabs a judging finger in his direction, “How _ dare _ you tempt me with financial benefits, Gilbert Blythe.”

A smile blooms across his lips. She’s so transparent. “So you'll think about it?” He asks, sounding hopeful. How can she deny him?

“I can't believe I'm saying this,” she shakes her head but she’s already smiling, “but yes, I'll think about marrying you.”

“Thank you, Anne.” He swoops down and kisses her cheek. It’s so sudden that Anne gives a small squeak and takes an instinctive step backwards. She has no doubt she’s gone all pink beneath her freckles. “Once you've made up your mind, let me know as soon as possible. My uncle is enforcing the will in a week.”

“I have less than a week to decide whether or not to marry you?” Anne asks incredulously.

Gilbert gives a bit of a shrug. “Sorry for the pressure.” He doesn’t sound all that sorry, believe it or not.

~

Surprisingly enough, Anne doesn’t tell Diana he asked.

Since they first met, they were fast friends, told each other everything, practically a hive mind. But she can’t tell Diana this. 

Anne turns to Marilla, which might be an even worse decision.

“Did anyone ever ask you to marry them?” Anne asks, as Marilla’s preparing dinner, that night. Anne’s got a glass of wine, but Marilla’s abstained for the night. She often complains she can’t keep up with Anne in her old age. 

Marilla hums as she stirs the spaghetti. “Yes, once.” Anne’s eyes widen in surprise over the rim of her wine glass. Marilla looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes when she sees Anne staring. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I told him no.”

“What? When? Who? Tell me everything, Marilla!” She laughs and Anne goes up on her tiptoes, expectantly. “Why have I never heard this before?” 

“Well, I was your age. _ You _ weren't even _ thought of _ when I was your age.” Anne rolls her eyes and sips her wine as Marilla sets down her slotted spoon and wipes her hands on her skirt. “I turned him down because I was young and I wanted to live my life. I figured I'd have time for romance, later in life, but then I inherited Green Gables and it was all work. He met someone else.”

Anne wraps her arms over Marilla’s shoulders and slots her chin over one, swaying a little, dreamily, “Who was he?”

“Oh, you never met him. He died a little before you came to Avonlea.” Marilla tuts. She sounds fond, but also sad. It’s so tragically romantic. If Anne were still twelve, she’d probably faint from the drama. “You know his son, don't you, Gilbert Blythe? John loved him so much, and then the poor boy was left alone.”

Anne doesn’t stutter. Never has. But for the life of her, she struggles to speak as she says, “You nearly married _ John Blythe _?”

“Is it _ really _ that hard to believe?” Marilla demands, pulling away from the circle of Anne’s arms and putting her hands on her hips.

“No, I’m just-“ Anne holds up her hands in surrender, “well, I just think that Gilbert is a lot more like his father than I first thought.” 

Marilla’s eyes narrow, suspiciously. Either Anne has a very obvious tell she’s never noticed before or Marilla’s become used to sensing Anne’s mischief. Probably the latter. “Why’s that?” 

“Oh, no reason.” Anne says loftily, brushing off the conversation. 

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert,” she’s broken out the full name, Anne needs to escape, stat, “what are you hiding?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Anne says, waving a dismissive hand as she exits the room, at speed, “don’t worry yourself over it.” 

~

“I’ll do it.” It’s Friday morning, and Gilbert looks like death. He’s also shirtless which Anne will ignore for the time being out of propriety’s sake and not because she thinks she’d get distracted, no way, never. 

“Huh?” Gilbert yawns. Anne purses her lips. God, she must look so much like Marilla right now. How Matthew would laugh.

“I’ll marry you. _ Duh _.” He looks more awake now.

“Seriously?” Gilbert asks, rubbing his eyes. He takes a step forward, and she takes a step back.

“Yes, seriously.” Anne replies, and holds up her hands to stop his progress towards her. The last thing she needs right now is a big shirtless grateful Gilbert hug. “But if we’re doing this, we need to set out some ground rules, because I’m not walking into this blind. Also because if your ex finds out we legally got married in the eyes of god, she will murder me and dissolve my body in acid.” 

Gilbert nods to himself, with a look on his face that very clearly says, _ yes, I believe Josie would do that to you. _

“Can I come in?” Anne asks, peering over his shoulder. What she can see of his apartment is very tidy. Marilla would be so proud.

“Yes - uh, yeah, sure, come right in.” Gilbert steps aside and ushers her in, closing the door behind her. Further into the apartment, it’s still very tidy, aside from the scattered assignment pages on his coffee table, but Anne is in absolutely no place to judge. She’s nowhere near the neat-freak Marilla raised her to be. 

Anne settles herself on his sofa and Gilbert disappears for a second, reappearing with a shirt and two glasses of water, one of which he hands to Anne. “Okay, so, um. My family plans to instate the will next Wednesday, so we have a very tight schedule to get the papers we need signed and filed, and I can imagine you need some time to organise things-”

“Organise things?” Anne interrupts, placing her cup of water on his coffee table.

“For the wedding?” Gilbert replies, now looking unsure.

“Gilbert, what about Josie not finding out about this isn’t getting into your brain? We can’t have a big white wedding.” She's _ definitely _ imagining the way his face kind of falls at that proclamation. “Let’s just go to town hall. I’ll bring Marilla as a witness and we can be done with it.” 

He narrows his eyes and asks, “Why not Diana?” 

“Because Diana, bless her cotton socks, hates lying, and if she’s gossiping she would tell Jane first, who would text it to Ruby who would immediately tell Josie.” Anne replies, knowing it to be true. Josie would flay her alive, and there’d be nothing anybody could do to stop it. “It’s just easier if only a couple people know.” 

“You’ve really thought about this.” He comments, sipping his water.

Anne nods to herself, gazing past his TV to the window, noting the grey sky. “I wrote up a pros and cons list and then a plan of action,” she adds, helpfully. 

“Oh my god.” Gilbert laughs.

“You’ve agreed to marry a master of stratagem and ADHD,” Anne informs him, turing to wiggle her eyebrows at him. She thought he’d look bewildered, but he looks rather amused at this statement.

“I’m starting to see that, yeah,” he agrees, grinning.

“Starting?” Anne scoffs, “You’ve known me since we were _ twelve _.”

“I _ know _.” Gilbert stops laughing abruptly. He rubs his face with his hands, and leans his elbows on his knees. “Anne, is this crazy?"

She shakes her head, and places a firm hand on his shoulder, “Like I said, I’d ask you to do this for me if it were Green Gables.”

“And I’d do it,” he assures her. A beat, and then, “You said something about ground rules?”

“Right.” Anne gets to her feet so she can pace as she lists off her few quibbles. Gilbert watches her intently, the way an eager student might watch their favourite teacher. “So, only a select amount of people will know we’re legally married in the eyes of god. So just whatever family members want your house that we have to fight, Marilla, and literally no one else unless absolutely necessary. That way, we can continue on our lives as normal.”

“Right, I think I can do that.” Gilbert says, putting down a dot point in his phones note app. 

“Good.” Anne says, pleased. Then again, if her memory serves correctly, Gilbert’s always had a problem with saying ‘no’. “Second, I think this marriage should be strictly like our friendship, except for when we need to act couple-y to nab free desserts by saying it’s our honeymoon.” 

He nods, “Awesome.” 

“Third, this is for convenience only. Use that as you may, but warn me first, and vice versa. Other than that, I have nothing else to say.” Anne pauses, looking over. He’s intently writing it in his notes. She feels like she’s already dominating the relationship, what little of it there actually is. Roy had said, when they were still sleeping together, that Anne really couldn’t help but be in charge. He asked her if she had a problem with being out of control. This is probably what drives her to say, “If you wanna lay down any other ground rules I’m game.”

Gilbert looks up, soft surprise in his eyes. He takes a beat and then shakes his head, “I think you covered everything. We can come up with more as we go, should we need to.”

“Right.” Anne agrees. She could always do with being a little more out of control. Se wonders if everyone sees her the way Roy saw her. She wonders if that’s really all that much of a problem. “Sounds good.” 

“Okay.” Gilbert gets to his feet, startling her a bit. “So, when do you want to do this?”

She inhales, and clasps her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl. “How about Monday? We can go during lunch, between our study line and curriculum planning lecture.” 

Gilbert laughs again, “You’re so wildly prepared.” 

“Regret asking me, yet?” Anne asks, poking his shoulder, having to reach across the coffee table to do it.

He swats her hand away, but grins at her fondly all the same as he says, “How could I regret you, Anne?”

She swallows at a sudden lump in her throat, and looks away, clearing her throat with intention. “So we’re agreed?” Anne asks, holding her hand out for him to shake. After this, there’s no turning back, no cold feet. She can’t abandon him like that.

Gilbert clasps her hand and shakes firmly. “We’re agreed.” 

It’s done.

~

And so, on Monday, they get married.

Breaking the news to Marilla is difficult, and she berates Anne for a bit about it, lectures her about throwing away her future for a man, but eventually she takes a breath long enough for Anne to explain why she’s marrying him. After that, Marilla is nothing but happy to support their decision to marry. They sign the papers at city hall, and walk out as husband and wife, as gross as that is. 

Marilla insists on buying them lunch in celebration, but they have to eat it quickly to make it to their curriculum planning lecture. And they don’t tell anybody, and that night, they wave goodbye to each other and go to sleep in their own beds.

Well, Anne doesn’t sleep. How can she when she’s legally married to her friend of almost ten years? That’s too much food for thought for her to sleep. Instead, she reasons with herself that he’d do the same for her and studies for classes. She reasons that after a few years, once everything on his end is settled, they can separate, and everything will go back to normal. 

The trick will be keeping all this quiet until then.

~

On Wednesday, they meet outside the family lawyer’s building. Anne hands Gilbert a large coffee. “Long black, one sugar,” she says, dumping the cardboard tray in a nearby bin.

“You remembered,” Gilbert replies, looking fondly astonished.

“Of course,” Anne scoffs, “what kind of wife would I be if I forgot your coffee order?”

Gilbert goes pink, and Anne has to choke down her laughter. “Right, yes.”

“So, Uncle George, huh?” She says, conversationally, taking a sip of her caramel frappuccino. The meeting’s in fifteen minutes, they have time to waste, technically, although, Anne has a class at twelve-thirty. “Bit of an ass?”

Gilbert chokes on his coffee. “Anne!”

“What?” Anne laughs, and pokes his side. She wonders idly if he and Josie were ever this close. But then again, he and Josie were kind of in love and had sex and kissed. Anne and Gilbert are just friends who are legally married for convenience’s sake.

“You-” he begins, but Anne cuts him off quickly.

“I’ll just keep quiet for this meeting, then, shall I?” She suggests, and grins at his somewhat guilty look. “I know when my romantic monologuing is needed and when it isn’t.” 

~ 

“I see no reason you should inherit the house, Mr Fletcher,” says the lawyer, handing Gilbert back the marriage certificate. 

George Fletcher, sitting to the left of Gilbert goes red. “Give me that,” he mutters, snatching the certificate out of Gilbert’s hands. Anne watches him read it, curiously. “This is dated two days ago! You got married to stop me inheriting the house, didn’t you?”

“No!” Cried Gilbert, snatching it back. Anne looks at the lawyer again. He looks rather bored flicking through the pages of Gilbert’s fathers will. “Of course not!”

“You did, you little rat.” George accuses him, stabbing a finger at him. Anne can see this is escalating far beyond what Gilbert can handle, so she tugs him out of his chair and seats herself down in it.

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Mr Fletcher.” The lawyer sighs.

Anne clears her throat and catches his attention, smiling sweetly. She knows she promised Gilbert not to interfere but sometimes she can’t help herself. “We’ve been engaged since last year, Mr Fletcher - oh, can I please call you Uncle George?” She feels Gilbert set a hand down on her shoulder, and tries not to tense at the sensation. “Gilbert does, and I don’t really have much family, except for my adoptive mother, Marilla, and you see I’ve always wanted an uncle, and maybe an aunt, too. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?” 

George looks between Anne and Gilbert a couple of times before landing on Gilbert and muttering, “Married a suck up, too, have you?”

“I swear it’s true, Uncle George.” She tells him, pleadingly, and scrolls wildly through her phone. “Look, this is from our engagement party.” Anne hands him her phone, open on Instagram. It’s the post Diana made for her going away party before her year abroad in Europe, a year and a half ago. Everyone’s dressed up nicely, and the caption is a heart emoji. There’s one particular picture of Anne and Gilbert slow dancing, and Anne laughing her head off at something he said. Josie wasn’t able to make it, so Anne accompanied him like the true gentleman she is.

He looks gobsmacked, scrolling back and forth through the pictures. Anne uses his temporary distraction to glance up at Gilbert. 

_ Thank you, _ Gilbert mouths at her. 

_ Any time, _she mouths back. She supposes her romantic monologuing was needed after all. It might come in handy during this marriage. 

They get no more complaints after that.

~

Anne manages to go two days without making any contact with Gilbert. It takes her about that long to convince herself that it was all a very elaborate dream.

She’s about to text Diana about it, what a ridiculous reality that would be, and _ oh _ , she’s _ so _ glad it’s not real, because if it were real, she wouldn’t be allowed to tell Diana by virtue of the rules _ Anne _ put in place - when her phone starts ringing and she actually has to sound human.

“Hello?” She answers, hitting speakerphone. She’s still sitting in bed, bundled up in her covers She was watching a cake decorating video, mindlessly.

“Hey Anne.”

It’s Gilbert. Of course it’s Gilbert.

That’s right, it is real. There’s some bitterness in her tone as she sighs, “Still married, are we?”

“As far as I know.” He laughs back. He’s always been good at not letting bad things get to him. He can hold a grudge like no one else but he’ll let her venomous words slide so long as she doesn’t mean them.

“Wonderful.” Anne says, and lets the bitterness go. She’s not bitter, he’s one of her closest friends, and he’d have done this for her. She changes her tone. “What’s up?” 

“You got any weekend plans?” Gilbert asks her, loftily, sounding as if he’s quite sure she’ll say yes to whatever he has in mind. 

“Not really.” She replies, warily. They had very close grades all through their schooling together, they’re quite as clever as each other, and she is loathe to forget it. He is her intellectual equal, he’s quite crafty, and he’s not above using that to his advantage.

“Wanna help me move?”

“What, back to Avonlea?”

“Yeah.”

Anne pushes back her covers and gets up, walking towards her mirror. “But, where will you stay during term?”

“Well,” he drawls, “this is kind of a big ask.”

“Gilbert, last week you asked me to marry you.” Anne replies, pulling her hair out of one of the two braids framing her face. She’s inevitabely going to be helping him today, and her hair needs time to hang loose on its own. “We’re so far past _ big asks _.” 

He clears his throat, and then says, lowly, “I was thinking you could move in with me.”

“And _ why _ would I do that?” Anne whirls on the phone and crawls back onto the bed to pick it up. “We’re _ supposed _ to be keeping a low profile.”

“What if people find out though?” He reasons, with stupidly good points. “Won’t it look weird if we’re married and living separately?” 

“Won’t it look suspicious if we live _ together _ ? What if that’s what makes people find out we’re married?” Anne replies, falling back into her pillows with a _ whump _.

“Wouldn’t you rather be consistent than wary?” And, god, they were both on the debate team in high school. Miss Stacy, who was in charge of it, would often have them practice with each other during low weeks, since they were the brightest students she knew, or so she said. “C’mon, break out that pros and cons list, Miss Stratagems-and-ADHD.” 

“You’re manipulating me.” Anne groans, rubbing her face. She’s much too tired for this. SHe wishes she could turn to Diana for help. “And that’s _ Mrs _ Stratagems-and-ADHD to you. I’m a married woman, or didn’t you hear?”

“Give me three good reasons why we shouldn’t.” He pleads, and Anne groans again, louder this time.

“Good reason number one; I don’t want to.” She pulls her hair out of the second braid sifting it through her fingers to keep it straight.

She hears him snort on the other end of the line, and then mutter to himself, “Coming back swinging with good reason number one.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Anne hisses.

“Look,” Gilbert sighs after a moment of silence from the both of them, “do this for me and I’ll owe you one.”

“Owe me two,” Anne corrects, and at his noise of confusion, clarifies, “I _ married _ you.”

“Oh, fine.” He relents, quickly. “Owe you two. Gonna keep track?”

“You bet.” She laughs. She supposes she’ll be moving in with him, then. “I’m gonna make your life hell.” 

“The words every husband wants to hear,” Gilbert teases.

~

They work out what exactly they’re moving to the house in Avonlea, and Anne calls up her landlord to explain the situation as best she can, about how she would like to move as soon as possible please, and can they set up a meeting to go over her rent agreement? Her landlord sounds bored as hell so Anne assumes it won’t be too much of a hassle.

Anne spends the weekend packing up her room in Green Gables into boxes to be moved to Gilbert’s house, about a fifteen minute drive away. Marilla’s so smugly coy throughout all of it; while Gilbert’s hauling boxes down the stairs and Anne stops him to adjust his hand hold to something that won’t hurt his back, while they’re stopped for lunch with proper homemade BLT’s and lemonade, while Anne’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom she grew up in, looking at the bareness of it all.

They manage to fit all the boxes into Gilbert’s car but there’s no room for Anne, so he says he’ll drive to his house -their house now - drop all the boxes in the garage and come back to get her so they can unpack together. Marilla waits with Anne on the porch, even though it’s still residually cold. It’s the beginning of spring, so of course it is. 

This’ll be the first spring without Matthew. She doesn’t have to say it to know Marilla’s thought the same thing. Throughout all of the grieving, she never asked Marilla what it was like to have a little brother one moment and then the next to not. Anne never had any siblings, barely had parents. She doesn’t know how to grieve her own blood. All she could do when Matthew died was grieve the memories they made, and the man she knew him to be. Anne won’t ask her, now, though. She wouldn’t dare. Marilla’s grieving was too destructive for Anne’s memory of her to try a repeat.

“He’s such a nice boy.” Marilla comments, idly. 

Anne hums her agreement, “Husband material, I would say if I hadn’t already gone ahead and married him.”

Marilla laughs at that. She had commented, when Anne revealed what all the fuss was about, that she thought it was quite funny that her family had such a history with the Blythe’s and marriage. _ We Cuthbert women just can’t resist them, can we? _she’d said. Anne had refrained from saying she wasn’t really a Cuthbert, and instead said that Marilla had resisted them, and that Anne was still resisting, to a fault.

“Still,” Marilla sighs, interrupting Anne’s thoughts. “It’s an awful lot of effort to put in for a lie.”

Anne swallows. “He was worth the lie.” That’s much too revealing in itself, but she knows Marilla, knows she won’t comment on the vulnerability in it.

The smug look she’d been sporting all day slips off, revealing a mildly worried interior. “You must care an awful lot more than I thought you did to be doing all this for him,” she comments, cautiously. 

“He would’ve done it for me, if it were Green Gables,” Anne replies for what must be the millionth time. It’s one of the only arguments that makes sense in this time of chaos.

“Yes, he would have.” Marilla agrees, gazing out at the tree-filled hills that roll out before them. “Matthew would have a fit if he were here. Always said you two were smitten for each other.” 

Anne turns on her gaping. “He did _ not _!” She cries, aghast. Matthew was always so quiet, but when he spoke it had meaning.

“Oh, _ he did _ .” Marilla chuckles. “He just never said so to _ you _ because he knew you’d react like _ that _.”

She rubs her face. “Oh, _ besides _ , it’s not _ real _.”

“The best argument in a situation like this.” Marilla murmurs in agreement as she gets to her feet. 

“What’s that mean?” Anne asks, turning to watch her go.

“Oh, nothing.” Marilla replies, waving a hand, the smug look once again in place in her features. “You enjoy your night.”

“Marilla!” She calls after her, but she doesn’t answer. 

~ 

They have a feast of pizza and flat pepsi on the floor of what will be the dining room at their new house in Avonlea. The sun’s been down for a couple of hours now, and their bedroom as well as the bathroom and the kitchen have been unpacked. It’s still a long road to go, and Anne still needs to go over all the pdf forms her landlord emailed so she can stop renting and move into Gilbert’s nice little apartment that he owns, closer to campus.

A little after midnight, they crawl into bed together, as far from each other as they can manage in a queen sized bed. Their backs are to each other. Gilbert turns on a podcast through his earphones and starts playing candy crush on his phone. Anne starts watching something mindless on Netflix, and around one in the morning she falls asleep.

She wakes at nine to the smell of bacon and thinks this will not be the trial she’s made it out to be in her head. Really, she’s getting a lot out of this marriage.

~ 

They make it nearly a month before someone finds out. And, of course, of all the people to find out, it’s Josie.

Anne’s in the shower when she hears the door slam and raised voices in the entryway of Gilbert’s apartment. They’ve been taking turns on the couch, and last night was Anne’s turn, so, of course, her shit is scattered all over the living room.

She gets dressed and exits the bathroom carefully, and when she realises the other raised voice is Josie’s, she freezes entirely, still out of sight of the both of them.

“I can’t believe it. It hasn’t even been two months, and you’ve already got someone else?” Josie hisses.

“Josie, you made it clear we were never getting back together.” Gilbert replies, somewhat coldly. Anne can’t imagine what it’s like for him to encounter his ex in what was once her natural habitat after she so cruelly turned him down. “This isn’t your business.”

“Who is she?” Josie moves deeper into the house with the slap of her flats against the hardwood floor to help track her movements. “Is she already moved in? Jesus _ Christ, _ you’re so easy.”

Gilbert lets out a long suffering sigh, his bare feet harder to follow as he goes after Josie, and says, “Leave her stuff _ alone_, Josie-”

“Tell me!” Josie cries.

“Josie!” Anne yells, stepping into her line of sight, hands raised half in surrender, half in defense. “Please don’t make this a big deal.”

Anne nearly averts her eyes at the strong look of pure, unadulterated anger and betrayal on Josie’s face when she realises it’s Anne whose shit is spread around everywhere, who’s living in his house.

“Seriously?” Josie all but whispers. “_ Her _?”

“Josie-” Gilbert says again. 

Josie looks between them again, face shifting between disbelief and anger. “_ Carrots _?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Anne murmurs, and moves some of her damp hair out of her eyes.

“So how long did you wait, Anne?” She demands, advancing on her quickly. Anne scrambles back on impulse and slams into the wall behind her. “Before you started fucking my boyfriend behind my back?”

“He’s not your boyfriend, Josie.” Anne replies, kind of winded. Her spine hurts. 

“Right, sorry, he’s _ your _ boyfriend, now, isn’t he?” Josie spits, all venom, all defense. “I thought you were my _ friend _.”

“Josie, please,” Gilbert sighs, running his hands down his face.

“Don’t _ Josie, please _ me!” She cries, waving an accusatory hand at the both of them. “You broke my trust!” 

“Your trust?” Anne questions, gathering her incredulity to propel her. “He doesn’t _ belong _ to you.” 

“I know!” Josie shouts. Then she quiets, stepping backwards so they’re both in her eyeline. “But you could’ve had the _ decency _ to wait longer than two months.” Her eyes flicker around the room, taking in the stray objects that belong to Anne, before narrowing. “Or, wait, you look quite comfortable here, considering half the shit I can see is yours, you’ve probably been here for more than a few days. So, tell me. I have the right to know. What’s going on here?” 

“Josie, please leave.” Gilbert says, taking a step towards her.

“Oh, I’m not leaving until I get an explanation.” She tells him, advancing on him quicker than he could usher her away. Anne supposes they fought enough times when they were together to get good at anticipating each other’s moves. Josie flicks her gaze over to Anne again. “You didn’t seem the type, but I guess underneath you always were the girl who’d put out for her friend’s ex’s. You a good fuckbuddy? Or, are you his girlfriend?”

Gilbert sighs, frustrated. “She’s _ not _ my girlfriend.” 

“Not worthy of the title?” Josie inquires in a parody of a sweet tone.

Anne sighs, “Josie-” 

“Stop it!” She suddenly shrieks. “Stop trying to keep me quiet!” 

“Please-” 

“Just tell me!” 

“We’re married!” Gilbert yells.

They both gape at him. Josie out of pure shock, Anne out of frustration. “Gilbert.” Anne mutters, massaging her temples. She just wanted to do coursework today. “For fucks sake.”

“What?” Josie asks, softly. “Are you serious? Is he serious?” She turns back to Anne, not angry, not upset, just lost looking. “Anne, he doesn’t…” 

Anne purses her lips in an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, Josie.”

“You’re…married.” It’s like she’s sounding out the word, trying to understand it. Anne looks at Gilbert and he looks back, an _ I fucked up, didn’t I? _expression on his face. “Holy shit. Oh my god, you’re married?” 

“We can explain,” Anne begins, but Josie just holds up a hand to stop her.

“I need some time to get this through my head.” She says, and then turns on her heel and walks out of the apartment.

Gilbert races after her, but stops in the doorway. “Go team,” Anne says sarcastically, “we handled that _ so well. _”

“Give me a break, Anne.” Gilbert sighs, slamming the front door and making a slow advance back into the house. “She wasn’t going to stop prying. Trust me.”

“Trust you? After you outed our secret marriage to the _ one person _who won’t blink before telling everyone?” She gathers her laptop and quilt in her arms, planning to hole up in the bedroom for the day and apologise later when she feels less stupid. “Unlikely.” She storms into the bedroom without looking back.

~

“God, I swear, if I were in town right now, I’d be in your room already, bludgeoning you to death!” Diana shrieks when Anne picks up the phone. It’s been buzzing nonstop, from about half an hour after Josie left. It’s been hours. Gilbert’s already pleaded with her through the door to come out and talk to him. Then he set down a box of sushi on the other side of the door and told her she could have it if she came out and talked to him, the manipulative bastard. She hasn’t done it. She’s on a hunger strike. 

“I’m sorry,” Anne sighs, staring at the ceiling. The sun’s set already, meaning she’s slowly burning out her retinas by staring at the light that’s keeping the room from falling into darkness.

“Oh, you’re _ sorry _ , are you?” Diana shouts, and then laughs, mockingly. “Means a _ fat lot _!”

Anne winces, turning onto her side and facing the door. She can see the shadow of where Gilbert’s sitting against it from where she’s lying. She wonders how long he’ll wait for her. She wasn’t sure she truly meant that much to him. “I know I should have told you sooner-” 

“_ Sooner _ ? I should have been the _ first _ person you told! I should have been with you every step of the way in this!” The wind whistles through the speaker after Diana speaks. Makes sense she’d have this shrieky conversation outside, away from her family. It’s her sister’s birthday, so she’s up in Avonlea for a bit. “You got married without me, _ and _kept it a secret from me!” 

“I _ said _ I was sorry,” Anne mutters, already sick of the argument. She’s fought with too many people today. She just wants everything to be okay, again. Of course, she knows it can’t be. Josie posted on every social media platform she has about Anne and Gilbert’s covert marriage and everyone’s outraged. It’s why Anne’s been avoiding her phone for hours.

“_ Sorry _ doesn’t cut it,” Diana hisses, menacingly.

“We’re still figuring things out.” Anne protests. They really should have fleshed out a story before this got out, as a safety net. She knows how to fabricate a story close enough to reality to buy, but Diana has a knack of seeing right through her. “It’s _ tentative _. We didn’t know who to tell.” 

“Anne, I’m your best friend! I’m basically the first person who should have known about all this.” This is the best argument she’s made so far. And yes, Anne feels bad, but she neglected to tell Diana for a reason. Now that that reason is two sheets to the wind, it doesn’t matter anymore. “And all that stuff you just said? That’s what people say after they sleep together for the first time - _ not _ when they secretly elope with a friend’s ex!”

“I know, it looks nuts, especially with the way Josie’s framed it-”

“That leads me to my next point; Josie knew before me?”

Anne remembers the fire in Josie’s eyes when she figured out Anne was staying with Gilbert. She shivers. “Josie found out on accident.”

Diana groans on the other end of the phone, “How long were you gonna keep this from me?”

“Until we were ready.” Anne admits, gazing longingly at her coursework, open and half-done on her laptop.

“_ ‘Until we were ready’ _. God, Anne, you seriously have no idea how this looks, do you?” There’s a hint of humour in her voice now. She’s getting through to her. “You know this is what people did in the early twentieth century when they got pregnant out of wedlock.” 

“I’m not pregnant, Diana,” she sighs.

“And thank god for that.” Diana laughs. “Josie would go on a killing spree. What she, and everyone else, mind you, do not need is confirmation that you and Gilbert have boned.” 

“That’s what she’s saying though.’ Anne says, snapping her laptop closed. “She’s saying we slept together _ behind her back _ . She’s saying Gilbert _ cheated _ on her.”

Diana pauses, and then asks quietly, “Did he?”

“No!” She cries, and sees his shadow on the other side of the door shift. She wishes he’d walk away already. She’s not worth it.

“Then it shouldn’t matter.” She dismisses, nonchalantly, anger half-dissipated, already. “I mean, just based on their relationship, and how on-and-off it was, it wouldn’t be hard to pull off a covert affair-” 

“Diana!” Anne cries, and then laughs. Diana laughs along with her, on the other side of the phone. And this is the easy friendship she missed while she was avoiding everyone, trying to get her head on straight about Gilbert. This is why their friendship ahs endured so long. It’s so easy with Diana, and while she doesn’t exactly make it hard, Anne still appreciates the ease.

“But seriously, marriage?” Diana eventually asks, after silence falls between them. “I know that you’ve known him since you were twelve but marrying him before you even really start your relationship, especially right after Josie broke up with him is pretty drastic.”

“I know.” Anne murmurs, well aware how crazy the whole thing looks from an outsider's perspective. It was one of the variables she considered when Gilbert asked her, in the first place. “It was crazy but it…look, it felt right, Diana.” 

Diana hums, “As long as you’re sure.”

“Am I forgiven?” Anne ventures, hopefully. 

“You might be if you let me throw you a wedding reception to make up for the one you didn’t have.” She tuts, “That was shitty, leaving me out of your town hall wedding.”

Anne watches Gilbert finally get up and walk away. Something in her aches, but it’s probably just the hunger pangs. This strike will be short lived once he’s asleep on the couch and she can nip into the kitchen for some snackage. “Sorry,” she offers, sheepishly.

More tutting. “So unromantic too.”

~

“Anne, we can’t let her throw a party for us!” Gilbert says through a mouthful of his burrito. She broke the news to him in line at Chipotle and they’ve been arguing ever since. She offered to pay as an apology for ignoring him for a full 48 hours after the whole Josie fiasco.

“Why not?” She groans, stabbing at a pile of salsa covered by cheese with a corn chip. “Everyone already knows.”

“It’s literally against the rules _ you _ put in place.” He tells her, shaking his head. He carefully folds the foil back over his burrito and digs out his phone. A moment later he hands it to her, and Anne squints at the photo he took of the notes he made when they set the ground rules. “Look at this.”

“I can’t read that.” Anne says after a bit of squinting. There’s some piece of tomato stuck in her teeth that’s really annoying her. He notices her distraction and exhales heavily in his frustration. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gilbert snaps, snatching his phone back, “_ I _ can.”

“And anyway, that doesn’t matter now.” She grouses, crunching loudly on her corn chip. “Those rules on keeping this whole thing a secret? Null and void now that everyone knows. And everyone _ does _ know, Gilbert. Josie made sure of that.”

He blows a lock of his dark hair out of his eyes, and takes a rather aggressive bite out of his burrito. “So…what?” Gilbert asks her, mouth full of pulled pork and beans. “What do we do?”

“We make Diana happy.” Anne answers, simply, even though there is nothing simple about any of this. It’s a constant battle, a constant recalculation, secrecy and lies to preserve this fragile reality they’ve built together. And if she’s honest, this is about upgrading. Making Diana throw them a party so they can be reintroduced to a world that doesn’t recognise them. They can work from there. Gilbert just doesn’t get it yet because he threw them into the open, defenseless and without a clue as far as how to make everything okay again. Anne can understand his logic even if she doesn’t respect it. “We let her throw us a party where we can explain our rush decision to marry. We made you happy, now we deal with the consequences and make everyone else happy too. Even if that means giving up what little privacy we actually have to make it realistic, because god knows we do not look like a married couple right now. We look like two scared kids who made a rash decision and don’t know how to deal with the repercussions.” 

There’s a pause in the conversation. Gilbert looks unsure, and a little upset. Anne puffs up her cheeks at her nachos. He looks like a popped balloon and Anne can’t help but feel like she’s holding the pin that popped him. “I don’t…Anne I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, suddenly, eyes on the peeling laminate of the table and not her, as if he’s scared of what he’ll find there. Anne wonders about the residual effects of his relationship with Josie. It seems like they fought a lot, which explains why Gilbert is always on the defensive. “I don’t know how to be your husband, I don’t know _ what _ I was _ thinking _ . I was barely a good boyfriend, I know that because, when it came to it, Josie didn’t trust me enough to make that leap.” A beat. He looks up. “ _ You _ did, and I still don’t know why.”

“Gilbert,” and Anne reaches across the table for his hands, finding them tentatively firm when he responds to her movements, “you don’t have to be my husband when we’re alone. All I need you to do is be my friend. Just as close as we were in the summer before college, remember?” Anne squeezes his hands reassuringly, and smiles at him. If she’s honest with herself, she can’t really stay mad at him, especially not when he’s so unsure of himself. “Just like back then, but we hold hands, and we kiss, and we give each other star eyes. It’s chaos but it’ll calm down. Soon enough we won’t be the talk of the town anymore and we can get on with our lives.”

“More ground rules?” He asks, unsure.

“_ Better _ground rules.” She corrects, lightly. “Not ruling things out, just saying what we need to keep this up but also to make sure we aren’t miserable together. Divorce won’t be an option for a bit, now.” 

“Right. Should we do that now?”

“Nah, why ruin lunch? Let’s do it over dinner, that way we’ve both had some time to think about it.”

_ You can’t help but be in control, can you? _Roy Gardner’s smug voice plays through her head. Anne shakes it away. Gilbert may not have the ability to say no, but he knows where his limits are, and Anne is aware of them too. She’s yet to cross those lines, yet, and while it looms, she won’t let Roy haunt her.

Gilbert smiles at her.

~ 

Rules of the Cuthbert Blythe Marriage:

  1. As far as anyone else knows, this marriage was out of love and not for convenience, so do not tell anyone otherwise
  2. Utilise the perks of the marriage but notify the other person before doing so
  3. Only tell who is necessary of the marriage
  4. Be convincing in public
  5. Remain friends (or it won’t work, duh)

~ 

“The name’s Roy,” the guy says, extending her hand for him to shake. Anne, three beers deep, leans into the handshake enthusiastically. “Roy Gardner.” 

“What’s that short for?” She asks, obnoxiously. He laughs, his lips stretching thin, his cheeks arching up in what must be severely overworked smile lines.

“Most people don’t ask.” Roy says, scratching the back of his head in a way she supposes is supposed to look bashful and somewhat charming, but Anne, three beers deep and more perceptive than ever, can see it’s at least a little bit of an act. “But it’s short for Royal. Guess my parents thought maybe they could secure me a good future by predicting it through naming?”

“I’m Anne. With an E at the end. Sounds really distinguished, doesn’t it?” Roy nods at her. Anne raises her beer bottle to him. “Can you even comprehend how it would feel to be called Ann without an E at the end?”

He grins, “I shiver.”

“Right?” He’s got dark hair that keeps flopping in his face, and his dress shirt has the top button undone. He’s not bad looking, all things considered. Her eyes flick over his shoulder in the direction of a floppy haired someone and his blonde girlfriend, making out in the beer garden outside.

“So what are you doing at a bar on a Thursday night, all alone?” Roy asks, drawing her attention back without acknowledging that he lost it. Perhaps he’s embarrassed, perhaps he assessing how drunk she is. Anne wonders how drunk he is.

“Well,” she drawls, and holds out her half-drunk beer in offering, “I’m not alone.”

“Hm?” Roy prompts, taking her beer and taking a swig.

“Yeah, you see that tall dude with the dark hair and the shorter blonde girl attached to his hip?” Anne points, and he swivels slowly to look over. Josie’s pretty much in Gilbert’s lap. Anne won’t be surprised if they’re asked to leave.

“Mhmm.” She’s waiting for Gilbert to swoop by and apologise that they’re leaving, and can she make it home on her own? She’s secretly hoping he’ll notice that she’s pretty tipsy already and get worried, offer to drive her home anyway, put off his boner for a second to care about Anne. But she knows she’ll have no such luck with that love-drunk idiot.

“I’m technically here with them,” she says, turning back to Roy, who hands her back her beer bottle, “but they started getting handsy a little over fifteen minutes ago so I gave them some space.”

“Ergo the beers.” Roy says, successfully connecting the dots. He sticks his bottom lip out in a considering pout, “_ Bit _ of a drastic step.”

“Well, you know sometimes when you can’t have something and it drives you insane?” He nods, knowingly, and glances over his shoulder again. Anne purses her lips. “I mean, not that I want him for myself, or her, for that matter. I don’t want to like be grafted into their relationship or whatever, I’d just like it if every time we hung out it wasn’t just a date I happened to be sitting in on. I don’t know.” She sighs, and finishes her beer. “Maybe I’m the one who’s out of place, here.”

“Friends from high school?” Roy asks her.

“Friends from home,” she corrects. They’re much more than friends from high school. She’s known them since she was twelve, and while they weren’t always friends, being disconnected after so long spent together is much harder than Anne anticipated. “Can’t blame them for wanting a night out without a third wheel but it still stings to be alone.” 

He leans on the bar beside her and raises his eyebrows, saying, “You don’t have to be alone, you know.”

“What are you proposing?” Anne asks in return. 

“Well, Anne with an E,” and she almost laughs at that, a childhood insistance biting her back in a suggestive conversation, “I’m saying I could keep you company for some of tonight.”

She cocks her head to the side, smile crooked, and says, “_ Some _ of…?”

Roy Gardner smiles crookedly back at her, and amends in an amused voice, “_ All _ of, if you’d like.” 

“Why didn’t you say so?” Anne laughs, getting off her stool, her peacoat falling off her lap and onto the sticky floor. Marilla would be furious. Marilla would hate the idea that Anne’s only going home with this polite stranger because she doesn’t want to be lonely. “Royal Gardner, take me home.” 

“What’s _ your _ last name?” He aks her, when they’re standing on the curb waiting for the Uber he called. His arm is looped with hers, and they’re shivering against each other. Anne’s imagining Gilbert searching for her at the bar, wanting to say goodbye.

“Ah, I have two,” she replies, quietly. It’s starting to rain. “Anne Shirley Cuthbert.”

“Good name.” Roy tells her. 

“Thank you.” She says on autopilot, because Marilla raised her to be polite even when she doesn’t feel particularly polite. She goes home with Royal Gardner, and an hour and a half later texts Gilbert from the bathroom that she’s sorry she left without saying goodbye but she’ll see him in class the next day. He doesn’t respond. 

~

Gilbert gets home from his shift at the liquor store at seven. Anne’s in the kitchen, jamming to some pop playlist on Spotify, and cooking these pork rissoles from a recipe Diana sent her. It’s been nearly a month since the news came out about her marriage to Gilbert and things have started to actually calm down.

The worst part of it was definitely when Miss Stacey came up to them at Diana’s party and informed them she knew they were smitten for each other since they joined the debate team together. “The sexual tension was palpable,” she had said with a wink and Gilbert choked on his wine.

Josie hasn’t said a word to either of them. Anne counts it as a blessing, at this point.

“You’ve got a letter,” Gilbert says as he enters the kitchen. He hugs her, briefly, around the waist, and Anne works to not stiffen in discomfort at the touch, followed by being handed a letter that has her name written on the front in lovely cursive script that can only be Ruby’s.

Gilbert takes over cooking the rissoles as Anne opens the letter. They’ve gotten better at that kind of thing; cooking for each other and with each other, bundling each other out of studying ruts and into bed, taking turns showering, taking turns doing the groceries. They can anticipate each others needs better and better as time goes on. The front they’re struggling on is physical touch without freaking each other out.

(Which isn’t to say Anne wouldn’t gladly touch him if he asked, it’s that they need to be past the asking. She doesn’t know if he’s struggling with that or not, but he’s at least making an effort to get her used to his touches.)

The letter, as it turns out, is a save the date for the now-impending wedding of Ruby Gillis and Herb Spencer and an invitation to the engagement party. “What the fuck,” Anne says, flipping the invitation over to find nothing on the back.

“What’s wrong?” Gilbert asks, idly looking over his shoulder at her.

Anne shows him the carefully printed card. “Ruby’s getting _ married _.”

Gilbert purses his lips and turns back to the pan in front of him. “Started an epidemic, have we?”

“Jesus Christ.” Anne mutters, heaving herself up onto the opposite counter. “And she’s been with him for like, what? A year and a half?”

“Anne, to everyone else, we got married in lieu of starting a proper relationship,” Gilbert chides, taking the cooked rissoles off the heat. He shoves her legs apart so he can reach the cupboard they were hanging in front of to retrieve plates.

“I know, but this is real.” Anne replies. She picks up her glass of water and takes a sip, poking him in the shoulder with her foot. “This is _ real, _ Gilbert. Our friends are getting _ married _.”

“We’re going, aren’t we?” He asks her instead of answering her incredulous statement. He sets the plates down beside where she’s sitting and plucks the save the date from her fingers. “Ooh, the Avonlea orchard for the wedding? That’ll look so pretty.”

“The wedding’s half a year away,” Anne sulks, snatching the save the date back. 

He pouts mockingly at her, “Let me be interested.”

“God, she’s barely twenty-one.” Anne mutters to herself, sipping her water, again.

“So were we,” Gilbert reminds her, carrying the plates over to serve on. 

“Stop being sensible.” She rolls her eyes.

“Are you_ flirting _with me, Anne Shirely?” He gasps, overdramatically, clutching the hand holding the serving spatula to his chest.

“That’s Anne Shirley Cuthbert to you.” Anne responds, pointing at him with authority.

“Hang on.” He pauses, humor suddenly sliding from his features, replaced quickly with genuine confusion. “Didn’t you take my surname?”

“Are you kidding me?” Anne asks him seriously. “‘Anne Blythe’ sounds awful. ‘Gilbert Shirley Cuthbert’ is much better.”

“No way.” He responds, tone all _ how dare you even suggest such a thing. _ It reminds her how young they are, how young _ Ruby _ is. “Gilbert Cuthbert Blythe or nothing.”

“Okay are you threatening me with divorce or murder, there?”

“Neither.” Gilbert says, and follows it up in a suggestive tone with, “I might threaten you with divorce a little later down the track, if you’re into that.” He winks. Anne faux dry heaves at him in return.

“Okay, now _ you’re _ the one who’s flirting,” she laughs. Gilbert hands her a plate of lemon and honey pork rissoles.

“Good to know we can do that.” He responds, and hops up next to her on the counter. “Check it off the list of things we need to be good at so we can function as a couple in public.”

“Sweet.” Anne fetches two forks from the drawer by her right thigh and hands him one. They manage to make it most of the way through their dinner before she asks, “If we’re settling with ‘Gilbert Cuthbert Blythe’ does that mean I’m a Cuthbert Blythe too?" 

“I think it does.” Gilbert agrees, slowly, and smiles at her.

“I actually don’t hate that too much.” Anne allows and relishes it when he laughs in response. “I’ll have to let Marilla know.” 

“Does this mean we’re going to the wedding?” He nudges her arm with his elbow. “You gonna let it go?”

She rolls her eyes, but nods. “Yes, alright.”

~

Ruby’s engagement party is held at her fiance’s house in the city, and it’s the first time Anne’s seen Josie since she barged into Gilbert’s house and found out they were married. She glares across the room at them every time they cross her eyeline, and so they steadfastly spend the whole party avoiding her. Causing a scene is not what they’re here to do.

It’s a test of how much they’ve improved on not flinching away from the expected PDA forced upon them by being legally married. Moody arrives late, fresh off the plane from New York, where he’s studying. The second he sees them, he lifts Gilbert up in a big bear hug and then does the same to Anne, congratulating them and calling Gilbert an unromantic bastard for not inviting him to the courthouse wedding.

“I’ll forgive you soon enough,” he assures them, laughing. “God, I need a drink.”

The rest of the party blurs by, only interrupted by some sappy speeches made by Ruby and her husband to be, Herb Spencer, about how much they appreciate everyone coming to the celebration, and how much they love each other. The worst part is when Ruby turns to Anne, too close to the front of the crowd to escape.

“We’d also like to thank Anne and Gilbert for showing us that marriage this young isn’t something to be ashamed of and should be celebrated.” Anne smiles out of politeness, and shoots Gilbert a look that she hopes reads as _ ABORT ABORT. _

She attempts to excuse them as soon as speeches are over. “Sorry to leave so soon, Ruby, but Gilbert and I both have classes tomorrow, and we live across town, so we really have to get going.”

“Are you sure?” Ruby frowns, glancing at the clock that hangs over the TV in the living room. “It’s not that late.”

“No, sorry, we need to go.” Anne insists, and glances at Gilbert, hoping to convey _ help me out, here _in a single glance. He nods at her in a way that says he’ll try his damndest. “We really-”

“Want to have sex.” Gilbert interrupts and Anne whips around to look at him with wide eyes.

“Gilbert,” she breathes in embarassed shock.

“Oh.” Ruby says, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Anne doesn’t blame her. “Well, uh…don’t let us keep you, then.”

Anne sees fit to laugh in embarrassment on the elevator ride down to the parking lot. “Gilbert, why the hell did you tell her we were going to have sex?”

“Got her off your back, didn’t it?” He replies, tiredly, leaning against the far wall of the elevator.

“Yeah, but now Ruby thinks I have _ sex _.” She frets, running a hand through her already messy hair.

“You don’t?” Gilbert asks, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. He’d been complaining about a developing headache before the speeches - she’d offered, jokingly, to kiss it better - which became half of the incentive to get out of that party before Ruby thanked them for their rush wedding as inspiration for her own.

“Not as a general rule.” Anne replies, beginning to pace between the two side walls in front of him. “I mean, I _ have _, but that’s mainly for just me to know.”

He opens his eyes, and follows her with his gaze. “You have?”

“Yeah,” she snorts at his expression, “don’t sound so surprised that someone actually found me sexually attractive.”

“I’m not surprised about _ that _.” He replies, quickly, sounding serious, and pushes off the wall. “Who-?”

“That’s not your business.” Anne snaps. “And what the hell did you mean by _ you don’t _? Did you think I was seeing someone for sexual favours behind your back, or something?”

“I mean, you can if you want to.” Gilbert says to her, and Anne recoils just a bit.

“Oh, _ gross _. You’re not opening this marriage are you?”

“I’m just saying that if you want to go out and have sex with a random person that’s fine with me.” He throws his hands up. “You married me as a favour I can’t really say I’m entitled to your body, now can I?”

“I don’t _ want _ to have sex with a random person.” Anne tells him, and pokes his chest. If this were a normal marriage this wouldn’t be a conversation they’d have to have. But this isn’t a normal marriage and Gilbert seems to think she can’t get by without getting fucked. “I’m completely fine with staying faithful within this purely platonic marriage.”

“Let’s just say that if you ever change your mind I don’t object." 

“I mean, gross, but the same goes for you.”

“Okay. That won’t happen, but okay.”

Anne glances around. “Have we actually moved?” 

Gilbert cocks his head at her, “Did you hit a button?”

“No, I thought you did.” She replies.

He laughs, “I thought _ you _ did.”

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Anne mutters, walking over to the console and stabbing the Ground Floor button. The elevator jolts into movement. “See? We’re barely functioning in a fake marriage. If this were real we’d be dead by now.” 

~ 

Anne awakens to Gilbert’s hair in her mouth. It’s getting pretty shaggy on him, but she’s been excusing it as a rugged look for weeks. Now it’s in her mouth and Anne can’t breathe. 

She rolls away from him, across the bed they’re still taking turns on, and sits up on the side. Her stomach rolls uncomfortably as her head begins to pound. Gilbert talked her into drinking last night, taunting her. He should know better - she doesn’t like turning down challenges, and she could tell it was his attempt at lightening up their relationship after they had another semi-argument.

Well, they both drank far too much, and ended up falling asleep in the same bed, which Anne is sure is against one of their rules. Right now, though, that’s not important because she’s definitely gonna puke. She just makes it to the bathroom in time. 

Anne hears Gilbert groan in the next room over and hopes he feels as bad as she does, the _ bastard _. It would be unfair if he talked her into it and then felt fine. She’s back in the bedroom a minute later, ready to collapse in a heap and sleep for a little while longer when her eye catches the glowing numbers on the clock and her brain catches up to her.

“Oh my god,” she says, and Gilbert groans at her again, waving a hand, “oh my god, _ Gilbert _ . Gilbert, it’s _ Monday _.”

“So what?” He mumbles into his pillow, back still turned to her.

“We have a _ class _ in _ fifteen minutes _.”

Suddenly, he bolts upright. Then his face completely falls and he goes green.

Gilbert sprints to the bathroom while Anne attempts to hop into last nights jeans that were shed onto the floor sometime during the night. Which is weird, because she totally meant to keep them on last night. She tumbles into the dresser a few times and then goes rummaging through the half open dresser drawer for something to wear.

Gilbert stumbles back into the room, less green but significantly more pale, and shirtless as well, which she hadn’t noticed before, _ avert your eyes, Anne. _

“We’re going to be late,” he says in a breathless, defeated voice.

“Not if we go fast enough.” Anne replies in the loftiest voice she can muster, while still feeling vaguely nauseous and reigning in a raging hangover. “Put a shirt on, grab some shoes, we can make it if we try.”

She tosses a shirt at him and speedwalks from the room, hoping she has enough time to make some toast.

By the time he emerges, shoes still untied, hair still messy, she’s got toast done, and has just finished filling their second thermos with coffee. “Are we good?” Gilbert asks, even as she rushes by, handing him toast and the thermos she just filled.

“Put your own sugars in, I’m getting my bag.” She sprints into their room, looking for her ugg boots that she shamefully wears when she feels like crap and can’t be bothered wearing proper shoes. “We’re leaving in one minute!”

“Do you want milk and sugar in yours?” He calls from the other room, and Anne falls off the bed trying to fit one ugg on her foot.

“Yes!” Anne cries from the floor.

A minute later, they’re rushing down the stairs, their jackets half on, the messenger bags falling down their arms, toast clenched between their teeth and a burning thermos of coffee clutched in their hands.

(They are exactly three minutes late, and make a bit of a commotion as they enter the lecture hall, but as soon as attention is back on the lecture itself, they’re giggling to themselves, full of adrenaline. They also decide to never drink on a school night again, and never to drink instead of talking.) 

~

Anne’s technically playing Subway Surfers when Gilbert nearly walks into her, after speed walking out of the lecture hall he was just occupying. Anne has enough classes with him to know his habit of sitting right by the door, which is why she’s hanging out so close. They both stumble for a second, and then he throws out an arm to steady her.

“Anne,” he says, sounding both relieved and confused. “I thought Thursday’s were your sleep-in days?”

“They are,” she says, and smiles extra wide at him, “but I thought today I’d be a good wife and pick up a BLT from that bakery near your house that never has BLT’s when you go in, so that you can actually have lunch today.”

She holds triumphantly aloft the paper bag containing the long-sought-after BLT. Gilbert’s incredulous look splits into a grin. He had been talking about this sandwich for weeks, complaining that he was always just too late, after he had bought one a while ago. He proclaimed it the best sandwich he ever had, and because she feels like she can be mean sometimes she decided today she’d go out and do something nice for him.

Gilbert takes the paper bag from her, and then leans in for a hug. They’ve gotten better at those, more familiar. They have to be, though, it’s not a choice if they’re going to keep up this charade. At least neither of them flinch at being touched, anymore. Anne can say that counts for something.

“Do you want to join me for lunch?” He asks as he pulls away. 

Anne smiles, and shakes her head. “I’m meeting Jane and Ruby and Diana for lunch to go over Bachelorette Party details.” She must be imagining the slightly disappointed expression that crosses his features for a moment. “That’s _ really _ soon.”

“Oh yeah,” Gilbert sighs, scratching the back of his head. His long curls go rustling with the disturbance. Anne’s getting used to the longer hair. The bottom of his curls just graze past his chin now. “The one at Diana’s beach house?”

“You bet.” Anne agrees. “Oh, I forgot to mention, you’ve been invited as well. To the Bachelor Party, I mean.”

He raises an eyebrow, and fixes the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like a weekend to yourself?”

“They’d be suspicious and you know it.” The thing is, she’s not sure that’s true. Maybe she’s gotten so used to his company that she’d be lost without him and she doesn’t like that. 

Gilbert seems to accept this argument, though. “Yeah…” He nods. A beat. “Alright, I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that, he swoops down and kisses her cheek. Before Anne can react at all, he turns his back, and rushes off, BLT in hand, a spring in his step. Anne thinks about it the whole lunch with the girls.

(The next morning, Gilbert gently wakes her for class with the coffee she loves from the store down the street and a bear claw. Anne tries not to think too hard on it.) 

~

He has this disgusting habit of smoking after they have sex. Anne always leaves his dorm smelling like cigarettes and it makes her hesitant to ever come back. She considers, briefly, taking his afterglow as an opportunity to throw his pack out the window, but Roy probably wouldn’t take kindly to it.

Anne just wants her roommate to stop giving her those nose-wrinkled _ looks _.

“Can you slow down, next time?” Roy asks her in between drags. At least he’s opened the window this time. Anne’s trying to figure out if her tights are inside out or not.

“Why?” She asks, distractedly. The smell is curdling in her nostrils. She needs to get out of this room.

“I don’t know.” He says. They’re inside out. She groans in frustration. “I just feel like maybe you don’t listen to me. I thought we could try something out.” 

Anne bites back a retort about _ there not being a “we” here _. She says, instead, “Yeah, okay, maybe.” 

He groans, this time, and says “You_ always _ say maybe.”

She cranes her neck to look at him and raises an eyebrow before turning back around, “If you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t leave it up to me.”

“Ah, but that’s not a choice, Anne,” Roy laughs, knowingly. “It’s always left up to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She finally gets her tights out the right way.

“Are you purposefully picking a fight with me?” His hand on her shoulder makes her flinch. Anne wants to stand up and walk away from him but she’s still trying to get into her tights. “Anne, hey, what’s going on?” 

What’s going on is Matthew’s in hospital, again. Heart complications, Marilla says, nothing serious, but he’s getting on in age, they should be wary. “Nothing.” Anne says. This is something she has to go through alone, because telling anyone else would be burdening them and her whole life she’s spent trying to keep everyone happy before keeping herself happy. 

“No, it’s not nothing. I can see it’s not nothing.” Anne shakes his hand off her and starts fitting her right foot into the tights. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“No I can’t,” she huffs, pulling the thick material all the way up her thigh. Next leg. “What do you think this is, Roy? This isn’t a relationship. We’re just having sex. We’re just doing this so we don’t feel alone, for the company, right? That’s it. Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“God,” he sighs, and she can smell the smoke as he exhales it, “everything isn’t an agreement, Anne."

“Yes, it is!” Anne retorts, turning to look at him as she stands to pull the material fully up her left thigh and onto her waist. “_ Everything’s _ an agreement.” 

“This is what I mean.” Roy says, holding up his hands as if pointing her out to a crowd, his unfinished masterpiece, his biggest regret. “You can’t help it, can you? You seriously can’t handle it.” 

_ “What _ do you mean?” She grinds out, scooping her skirt off the floor without breaking eye contact with him. 

“I _ mean, _” he says, and all of a sudden his tone is full of venom. Anne wonders what her tone sounds like to him. “You don’t like being out of control.” 

She breaks eye contact with him as she steps into her skirt and zips it back up. Her shirt is still discarded on the pillow. “Maybe I don’t wanna be controlled,” Anne replies, quietly.

“Has it ever hit you that maybe everyone feels that way? What exactly makes you think everyone else feels differently to you? What makes you think everyone else wants to be controlled, Anne? As it turns out, _ you’re _ the outlier here, and you seem to think that’s _ normal _.” 

She shouldn’t feel like crying, but this brutal assessment on top of everything else feels like it’s the final straw. But Anne doesn’t cry in front of people who don’t care about her. So, she pushes back her tears, curls back her top lip and says, “I kind of don’t care what you think.” 

She pushes past him and grabs her shirt off the bed pulling it over her head. Next her jacket off the floor and her backpack by the door. “Where are you going?” Roy asks her as she reaches for the door handle. She shouldn’t stay. Her lungs are stinging with tears and smoke. 

“I’m leaving. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I uh, I don’t think I need you anymore.” Anne’s breath shudders out of her as she pushes at the tears again. “So you can have sex with and smoke at some other girl, now. I don’t need you to make me feel better, anymore.” 

“Have you always run away from things you can’t control?” He taunts, obviously feeling like it’s the only way he’ll win this fight. “Or am I the first person to fight back?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She snorts, yanking the door open and casting a final look at him. “You’re just the first person to ever piss me off enough to make me walk out.”

~ 

Time progresses as it should. They hold hands at the supermarket as they go grocery shopping and it doesn’t feel weird. They get coffee and danishes before class on early mornings and hug tightly before they go their separate ways. They officially start sharing the bed after weeks of casually sharing it, and start practicing spooning because with Ruby’s Bachelorette party being at Diana’s beach house they’re most certainly going to have to share a room with someone and will be expected to be comfortable sharing a bed, so may as well get started early.

It feels normal, now. Being without Gilbert is the weird part. It always feels better once they’re together again. It’s like suddenly having another limb or like being attached to another person. After a while you begin to get used to it and life without that reality seems strange.

Exams hit with a wave of anxiety and hysteria. They fall into a pattern of ordering take out and drilling questions with each other deep into the night. These are the exams they need to pass to legally become student teachers. This is their Bachelor Degrees, and after they graduate, they’ll need to get certified and licensed and boom. They’ll be teachers. Needless to say these are the most important exams they’ll ever take. Graduation is in a month. 

Anne and Gilbert fall asleep in tired heaps each night, too tired to think about the carefully plotted out technicalities of who is spooning who tonight. They’re so used to it by now that it just makes sense. 

In truth, Anne _ likes _ getting used to his arm around her waist when they go to bed at night, his laugh over dinner, his singing in the shower, and his laughter on the couch, watching TV. Anne can’t remember how she got by before them. She doesn’t think she wants to. 

And the funny thing is that they make it through the exams alive. And only a few weeks later they graduate. Anne kisses the corner of his mouth for the photo Marilla takes at their graduation and no one says anything about it, not even when she curls up against Gilbert’s chest that night when they go to sleep.

~

Of course Josie’s at this bachelorette party getaway. Anne probably even knew about it.

(They probably brought it up at that lunch she was too preoccupied to pay attention to, so stuck on the fact that Gilbert kissed her cheek because she bought him a sandwich.) 

In any case, she’s there when they arrive, and as luck would have it, Diana takes that moment to give them a brief tour of her family’s beach house and get them settled in their room. “There’s so much space here, every couple could probably sleep separately. All I’m trying to say here, is you guys get some privacy.” 

She leaves only a moment later and Gilbert turns to her with a grimace. She’s totally in for it now.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, before he can say anything.

His expression softens but he still sighs and says, “Did you know she was gonna be here?” 

“I forgot.” Anne replies and Gilbert squeezes the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “We _ just _ graduated, I was busy with other things.” 

“Yeah, I get that, but Anne,” he agrees, and grabs one of her hands, “now we have to spend a whole weekend with my _ ex _.”

“Okay, this is _ not _ all on me.” She says, ripping her hand back. “ _ You _ were the one who kept checking the Facebook event for details! You know what she’s like; she definitely posted on the page!”

“Oh, so it’s all _ my _ fault, now?” Gilbert says, his voice rising, sounding exasperated.

“I’m definitely interrupting something, aren’t I.” They both whirl around and Josie’s standing in the doorway, a bemused look on her face. 

“Josie,” Anne says in surprise, glancing briefly at Gilbert, “hi.” 

“Hi.” Josie replies, waving, awkwardly. “Uh, sorry for just barging in like I own the place. Do you want me to leave?” 

“No, that’s fine, we weren’t talking about anything important.” Gilbert coughs, and grabs Anne’s hand, a vain attempt to look more intimate. “Was there something you needed?” 

“Um,” she begins, closing the door behind her and scuffing her shoe on the wood panelled flooring. “Well, I guess I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Anne blinks but doesn’t say a word. 

“I totally just busted my way into your marriage, with no thought for your feelings, and then screamed accusations at you that I now see are completely untrue.” She sees, in her peripheral vision, Gilbert glance at her, and then feels his hand tighten in her own. Josie worries her bottom lip with her teeth, and then continues, “I had absolutely no right to assume your life together was my business and I’m so sorry that I made you feel alienated and then outed what was obviously a private relationship to the general public without your consent.”

“That’s…” Anne pauses, considering her words, “very grown up of you, Josie.”

“Yeah, I’ve been talking to my therapist about it.” Josie sighs and gives them a tense smile. “She helped me rationalise a lot about it.”

“Oh.” Anne glances at Gilbert, and when he meets her eyes he can very clearly see the guilt she’s projecting. Anne’s resolute in what she needs to do. “Josie, we should probably tell you something.”

“Anne, no.” Gilbert hisses, squeezing her hand.

“She has a right to know, Gilbert,” Anne hisses back, tugging her hand from his, once again.

“Oh god.” They both look back to Josie and she’s gone pale, looking almost sick. “Are you pregnant?” Anne jolts with the question, so out of her mind that it’s a shock to suddenly think it. “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant. There’s a lot of things I’m prepared to handle currently, but you being pregnant is not one of them.” 

Anne takes a few steps to her, hands forward, palms outstretched in a calming manner, “No, I’m not pregnant.” 

“We haven’t had sex.” Gilbert pipes up.

She nods in agreement, and looks over her shoulder at him, “We haven’t even kissed. Have we?”

“I don’t think we have,” he shakes his head.

“What? Wait, I’m confused,” Josie frowns, waving her hand at them. “You haven’t _ kissed _ ? But you’re _ married _.”

“Legally, yes,” Anne sighs, “but, uh-”

Gilbert kicks the decorative carpet by his feet, piping up, “There’s a reason we had a courthouse wedding and…” 

Anne gives up trying to put this lightly, feeling bad about Josie’s confused expression, “Look, Josie, it was a marriage of convenience.” 

“Wh-” she narrows her eyes at them,_ “what?” _

Gilbert coughs again, and Anne sighs. “I married Gilbert so he could fit the criteria needed in his father's will to inherit his house back in Avonlea. This isn’t really real. We’re not in love or having sex or anything.” She watches him cringe a little in her periphery and hopes he’s not linking the sex he had with Josie to the imaginary sex Josie thought he and Anne were having. She barely stops herself from cringing at that thought. “It was a favour for a friend, and once everything dies down enough we’ll separate and say no more about it.” 

“Oh my god,” Anne glances at Gilbert to gage his reaction, and notes how red he’s gone, “Are you serious?” 

“Dead,” he says, sounding slightly choked, and honestly this feels like cosmic payback for what happened at Ruby’s engagement party.

“So, you’re not really - you’re not in love? Or together?”

“No. We’re not.”

“Oh my god, that is so good to know.” Josie gives them a relieved smile and then pulls them, very suddenly, into a hug. Both of them, squashed against each other, in her arms. “I see why you’re hiding it, and it’s really impressive you’ve managed to get away with it so far.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Anne whispers, with her front stuck against Gilbert’s shoulder.

“Oh, no,” She releases them, and Anne tries not to sigh in relief, “I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.” 

And with that, she leaves.

(Anne and Gilbert don’t talk about it. They go downstairs and join the festivities as they start up. Gilbert leaves a half hour later with the groomsmen for Herb’s boat, and Anne stays with the bridal party to get slowly wine drunk at the beach house, playing stupid, prepubescent games. Gilbert arrives back at one am, and falls in a heap on their shared bed. Anne rolls over, still a little wine drunk and half asleep, and immediately bundles him into her arms. 

“I’m never doing that again,” he whispers, and kisses her wrist. 

“Good thing _ we _ didn’t have to do that.” Anne whispers back, kissing his soft brown curls. “Go fake marriage.” 

“Go fake marriage,” Gilbert agrees, sounding half-hearted. It’s probably because he’s half asleep already.) 

~ 

Gilbert is such a fucking suck up. Anne isn’t exactly complaining, though. Especially because he’s sucking up hard to Marilla over dinner. 

Anne rolls her eyes at him, and collects up the plates from dinner. Marilla laughs at something he says and sips her wine. They were both relieved to be free of Ruby Gillis Wedding Duties, and went up to Avonlea for a break from everything. Of course Marilla had to have them over for dinner. 

It’s actually quite a nice picture, Anne muses as she looks over her shoulder in the doorway of the kitchen. Gilbert and Marilla, getting along like a house on fire. She feels so affectionate towards them, as if she really was in love with him, and was happy that he could get along with her beloved guardian.

She shakes the thought away, mentally scolding herself. She’s not in love with him, and thank god, because if she ever found herself in love with that mess, he’d soon see what a tragedy of a human being she is. Perhaps she’s scared no one will ever love her because of what Roy said. It haunts her, that she’s unlovable because she won’t let herself be out of control. 

Anne sets about washing the dishes, and starts when Marilla rests against the counter beside her and says, “So, that seems to be going well.”

“What does?” Anne asks, recovering and willing her heartbeat to slow down. 

Marilla gives her a coy look, “You and Gilbert.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” She replies, haughtily, turning back to the sink. She puts in the plug and hits the hot tap, looking for the detergent.

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert-” Marilla begins in a tone that she remembers from childhood.

“It’s Cuthbert Blythe, now,” she cuts in, still feeling rebellious.

Marilla sighs as Anne tips detergent into the slowly filling sink, and says, “It doesn’t matter where a marriage starts, it’s what builds in one.” 

“How would _ you _ know?” Anne asks, sharply, her mouth too quick to consider Marilla’s feelings. 

There’s a silence. Anne begins to drop the cutlery into the filling sink for something to do. Next the big, sharp kitchen knives. Marilla inhales and softly states, “Just because I never married doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about love.”

“I know,” Anne sighs, resting her forearms on the edge of the sink, “but I don’t love Gilbert.”  
  
“You’ve always been a more _ expressive _ girl.”

_ “Marilla.” _  
  
“Anne, you can’t tell me you don’t know how he looks at you.” Anne turns and looks at Marilla, arching her eyebrows in a way she hopes conveys _ please stop. _

“We’ve been getting close, that’s all.” She turns off the tap and runs her hands through the layer of detergent bubbles on the surface of the water. “For the sake of the marriage. It just makes it more convincing.”

“Everything alright in here?” And as he enters the room, Anne grabs the wrong end of a knife in the sink, lifting it from the water, and as she realises her mistake, she drops it on the floor, but not before it manages to get a good slice in on the inside of four of her fingers.

“Ow, ow, shit,” she gasps, and shakes her hand. It sprays blood all over her jeans and the cabinets in front of her. The way the knife hit the tiles below rings in her ears like a klaxon.

She sort of tunes everything else out, focusing, honing in on the ringing. Anne’s aware someone grabs her by the biceps and steers her back into the dining room, seating her back at the table, she can hear Marilla muttering to herself as she hurries up the stairs, and she supposes she can see Gilbert kneeling in front of her on the floor, asking her, gently, to open her hand so he can get a look at the cuts.

“Anne, please.” Blood runs down the sides of her palm in little dribbles, and between her fingers, too. It’s dripping on the carpet. Marilla will have to clean that carpet. Anne yanks her hand back, over her jeans, more willing to have to stain-treat her jeans then force Marilla to do more work. “Anne, let me help you.”

The knife still rings in her ears. She wonders if it will ever stop.

“Look at me,” his voice says, breaking through the white noise and ringing. Anne’s eyes focus in on his face, pale and worried, framed on both sides by hair he’s let grow too long but she still adores. Yes, there’s Gilbert, worried for her, caring for her, damn him. He cares a lot, she thinks, given what she’s seen him do for her. She doesn’t give him enough credit for how much he cares. Anne doesn’t give him much reason, if she’s honest. She’s too mean to him. She should give him a reason to care for her, she should care for him just as much, if not more, because he truly does deserve that, and who is she to treat him badly? 

What kind of person repays love with hurt?

Anne slowly leans forward and presses her palm to his cheek. He looks taken aback by this action, and doesn’t seem to notice the blood that dribbles out across his skin from where she touches him. “I don’t give you very much reason to be kind. Why are you?”

Before he can answer, Marilla comes thumping down the stairs and Gilbert, once again aware of his surroundings, instead of staring up at her with some unknown kind of affection in his eyes, pulls away and walks into the other room, a bloody handprint emblazoned on his pale cheek. Marilla appears before her and begins clucking in concern and exasperation. She scolds Anne about being more careful with kitchen implements. 

By the time she’s finished bandaging Anne up, Gilbert emerges from the kitchen, bloody handprint absent, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Thought I’d finish the washing up, wouldn’t want you to have too much on your plate, Marilla.” 

Marilla sighs her thanks, and Anne mouths _ kiss ass _over her shoulder, on impulse, when Marilla’s not looking. Gilbert sticks his tongue out at her in response. Marilla then ushers them towards the door, saying it’s been a very exciting night and they need rest. Anne comes back to herself completely when they arrive at the house in Avonlea, the one they got married to save, and Gilbert carefully takes off her coat.

“It’s because I think you deserve a little kindness in the world,” he says, softly, hanging it up on a hook, “and I don’t care if you don’t give it back.”

~ 

She’s got a toothbrush in her mouth when she hears him shout over the sound of the shower spray, “So which one of us is the designated sober spouse, tonight?”

“Huh?” Anne replies. It’s an hour until Ruby’s wedding, and she’s yet to do her makeup, but like hell is she spending seven and a bit hours with old school friends with her breath smelling like shit. She’s got so much gum in her clutch.

“I just mean there’s always one drunk spouse and one sober spouse at evening events.” The shower turns off, and Anne turns her back to the shower so he can have some privacy. That’s the problem with houses that only have one bathroom. “So which one of us is going to be responsible and which one can be trusted not to blab while drunk.”

“I’m immediately out of the running for being drunk.” Anne mumbles through toothpaste foam. The shower door slides open and she watches his towel disappear from her vision as he swiftly grabs it from the bar. “All I do is tell secrets.”

“Aw, sweet,” Gilbert says, behind her, “I love being drunk.”

“Oh, what?” Anne asks, putting on a surprised tone, and bending over the sink to spit the toothpaste foam out of her mouth. “Who knew?” 

He snorts, and brushes her shoulder with his hand as he passes. “Okay, what’s that about, Miss Sarcasm?”

Anne spits and straightens up. “Number one, that’s _ Mrs _ Sarcasm to you, you married me.” She replies, turning and pointing at him accusingly. He grins, picking up his toothbrush. “Number two, I guess you wouldn’t remember most of your first year at college, because you drank most of it away.”

He pouts, “Low blow.” 

“No, _ not _ low blow.” Anne washes her brush under the tap and then replaces it in the holder. “That was _ totally _ justified.”

He pauses, and Anne glances at him, present in her peripheral vision. His towel is around his hips, and his hair, still too long, is half flattened to his scalp and half already drying and sticking up in half-hearted corkscrews. “You’ll take care of me though, won’t you?” Gilbert asks her, consideringly.

It’s quite a soft moment, and Anne, ever uncomfortable in emotionally vulnerable situations, shunts the urge to promise him always. Instead she snorts, averting her gaze, and says, “No, Gilbert, I thought I’d leave you drunk at the reception like a bad wife. _ Of course _ I’ll take care of you.”

Gilbert rolls his eyes, “_ Again _ with the sarcasm.” 

“I thought you _ knew _ who you married,” she laughs, relieved that he gracefully accepted her aversion to being emotionally vulnerable right now.

“Okay,” he says, “how much time should we spend together and how much time apart?”

“Stop asking me questions.” Anne groans, pulling out her rarely-used make up bag. When she still lived with Diana, it was up to date, but now Anne’s sure she’s very behind with the times. “_ You _ answer some.” 

He puts down his toothbrush, and gesticulates as he speaks, “To keep up the act we should stay together for the wedding, and the start of the reception, but after all the speeches we’ll split off and talk to other people.” Anne wiggles her eyebrows at him. He does the same right back, and continues, “And then you notice I’m drunk and excuse the both of us to take me home.”

“Very thought out,” Anne notes in a complimentary tone, uncapping her eyeliner pen and shutting her right eye as she leans towards the mirror. “What if I’d said something different to you? Take that on the chin, would you?” 

Gilbert hums and then spits the toothpaste foam into the sink, replying, “I value your input.” 

“Hmm,” Anne hums back, happy with how the eyeliner came out on that eye and moving onto the next. “Alright, usual talking points. Avoid talking about the marriage but if it comes up, be vague. That gives some lead up to the inevitable divorce. Talk about graduation and applying places, admire the wedding and all its details.”  
  
“Got it,” Gilbert chuckles, “talk about anything but us.”

“It’s just to be safe,” she insists, but laughs a little too, blinking as she sizes up her eyeliner on her left eye. “Plus, if you have that block in your mind it won’t come out while you’re drunk, either.”

“Fair.” Gilbert allows, walking towards the bedroom to get into his suit. “Are we gonna dance together?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Anne rolls her eyes, unscrewing her mascara wand. “Of course we’re gonna dance together. We’d be a shitty married couple is we didn’t dance at weddings.”

~

The wedding, held at the Avonlea Orchards, is really beautiful. It’s nearing summer, so the blossoms of the trees are slowly dropping from branches or transforming into fruit. Gilbert and Anne are seated three rows from the front, and Anne keeps making faces at Diana, the Maid of Honour, during the parts of the ceremony she finds her attention drifting from. 

Overall though, it’s pretty lovely, and once they’re excused from the few photos they’re squeezed into, and told the reception starts at five, they debrief in the car.

After that, they make smalltalk with Jane and her plus one - whose name Anne totally misses - at table four, waiting for the bride and groom to arrive.

Josie keeps giving Anne weird looks from across the way at table five, a real trial for her because she has to turn around in her seat to even meet Anne’s eye. Still, she wiggles her eyebrows and gives her encouraging smiles whenever Anne’s gaze moves in her direction. She’s glad for the moral support, however strange it may be, she’s just not that sure Josie gets the idea of subtlety. 

Once the bridal party arrives, it gets easier; there’s food to look forward to, speeches to distract her, groomsmen to gossip with. Gilbert orders drink after drink, looking relieved to have somewhat of an outlet. As soon as the main course is over, Anne’s out of her seat and sweeping over to speak with Diana, who’s milling with a few older guests by the cake, admiring it.

The MC, a cousin of Ruby’s who’s quite lively, has invited people up to dance a bit while they wait for the cake to be cut, and there are quite a few wedding patrons who have partaken the invitation. Diana looks relieved to see Anne and excuses herself from the conversation with whoever’s grand aunt. 

They lean against the far wall, sipping their respective beverages, like they used to at school dances, far more interested in each other’s company than being asked to dance.

“Is she much of a bridezilla?” Anne inquires.

Diana laughs and shakes her head. “You’d think she was a bridesmaid, for all the decision making she actually did. _ He _ wasn’t too much of a help, mind you. They’re both very kind and concerned for each other’s happiness. Very indecisive, those two. I sincerely wonder how they’ll function, running a household together.” Diana sips on what seems to be just straight lemonade and gives Anne a grin. “Quite the opposite of you and Gilbert. Both so competitive and stubborn. I’ll bet you fight a lot.”

“We used to,” Anne half-lies. It’s true they’d fight when they were younger, battling it out to be the best, smartest student. Now it’s like they’re aware they’re each other’s intellectual equal, and treat each other as such. “We take turns being in charge.” 

“Sounds kinky.” Diana says, devilishly.

“Diana!” Anne cries, smacking her shoulder as Diana giggles into her lemonade. “Oh, don’t make me talk about him. He’s half my conversation these days. Tell me about you.”

“I’ve barely had time to think for myself, these days.” She sighs, swirling her lemonade in a mini whirlpool in her glass. It’s just a tad mesmerizing. “Ruby kept me on a _ very _ short leash. She values my opinion on simply _ everything _.”

Anne purses her lips, kicks her heel against the floor, and asks, “Any longer-leash stories?”

“Only the wild shenanigans of the bachelorette party.” She laughs, sipping. Then she casts a narrowed look at Anne, mouth twisting just a bit. “Though you were barely there, weren’t you? Too busy with the husband, I assume.” 

She chooses not to deign the question with an answer, and instead inquires, “What wild shenanigans did you indulge in?”

“Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Diana grins, a green party light running over her face, “a bit of drunk sex with the best man.” 

Anne gapes at her and shoves her shoulder, “You’re kidding!” 

“I wish I was,” Diana replies, sighing. “Anne, you know I’m a dumb drunk.” 

“Diana…” she says, cautiously, noticing the tone change of the conversation. The hand Diana’s got rested on her inner elbow drops, casually, and moves to press over the barely noticeable bump of her stomach. 

“Let’s just say my mother is not pleased with me.” She laughs, shaking her head.  
  
“You’re not serious?” Anne whispers, pressing her hand over Diana’s as if there was something to feel. 

Diana drops her hand and raises her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m dead serious.”

“And you’re not…?” 

“You know I’ve always wanted kids.”

Anne takes a swig of her champagne, her only alcoholic beverage of the night, “This is a _ bit _ early, though.” 

“Maybe.” Diana agrees, blowing a stray hair out of her face. “I don’t know, I’m not actually all that fussed.”

“As long as you’re sure,” she says, mildly.

“You’ll support me in this?” The tightness in her voice as she asks, as if she thinks there’s even a bit of a possibility that Anne will say no, is what spurs Anne to be so fiercely in support of her. That and she’s never loved someone like she loves Diana.

“Diana, how could I not?” Anne asks, taking her free hand and squeezing it until Diana smiles back, relieved. “Of _ course _.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you abandoning me fully for that boy of yours.” Diana jokes, toning down the moment. “He’s sweet on you, and cute, but I’m much cuter.” 

“Damn right.” Anne agrees. She spots him dancing with the flower girl, wisping her off her feet when the song gets faster and letting her step on his feet. He’s really drunk, but just as admirable. Anne doesn’t want to know what her expression looks like, because she’s sure it’s sappy. How can she not be fond of him, so awfully fond, after all this time? 

Anne sips her champagne and watches as Diana chats idly about details of the wedding she’s responsible for.

~

Gilbert’s nearly asleep by the time Anne leads him to the bedroom, at the house in Avonlea. He doesn’t object to her help in getting out of his suit, and doesn’t object to her forcing him to brush his teeth, or the fact that she tucks him in. He’s not conscious when she exits the room, Anne knows that for sure.

She gets changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom, and then gets the spare quilt out of the linen closet, setting herself up on the couch.

Fifteen minutes later, Anne hears the creaking of floorboards from the bedroom and sits up as Gilbert slowly emerges from the room, blinking blearily into the darkness.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers.

Gilbert makes his way over to her and then crouches beside the couch, wrapping her in his arms. “Why are you out here?” He responds, just as softly, into her loose hair. 

“I-” Anne doesn’t know. Is it that he couldn’t sleep without her there, with him? The thought makes something rise in her. Something she doesn’t want to acknowledge, something that makes it hard for her to breathe.

They haven’t slept apart for months, since long before the beach trip 

“Anne-Girl, come back to bed.” 

That sentence nearly winds her. The endearing childhood nickname, paired with a request so intimate shouldn’t mix so well. Anne can only follow his lead, dumbly, as he takes her hand and takes her with him back into the bedroom. She doesn’t say a word when he shuffles towards her under the covers, or when he rests his head on her chest, or when he strokes his thumb against the skin of her waist being bared by the hem of her shirt riding up. 

Anne lies there, staring at the ceiling and thinks that this is what it must be like to be loved by Gilbert Blythe. 

~

“Anne?” She looks up. Roy Gardner grins back at her, a foot or two away from her bar table. “Anne Shirley Cuthbert, is that you?” 

She’s frozen in place, staring. Anne doesn’t want this to be happening, but it is, _ it is _ happening, and now he’s walking towards her, his arms opening, like the last time they’d seen each other hadn’t been during a screaming kind of break up. He wants to hug her. He’s walking over to hug her.

Anne gets to her feet, reluctantly, and hugs him, glancing desperately around, over his shoulder, for any sign of Gilbert returning with the drinks he’d promised her. They’re here together, a sort of pre-dinner pep rally. They’re meeting with Jane and her new boyfriend who took quite a shine to her and Gilbert at Ruby’s wedding reception. 

Gilbert is nowhere to be seen.

“God, it’s been ages.” Roy says, and pulls away a little, keeping his hands on Anne’s biceps so he can hold her in place as he looks her over. She’s dressed up. The restaurant Jane chose was fancy, what was she supposed to do? “You look good. Like, really good. How are you?”

“Good,” she chokes out, and shuffles out of his hold. “Uh, how are you?”

“Oh, as well as I can be. I’ve quit smoking, did you know? Just for the time being, mind you, but it’s a bit of progress, don’t you think?”

Anne wishes she and Gilbert had exchanged rings when they married. Maybe if she had a ring on her finger, Roy would take a hint and fuck off. He’s still talking. Somehow, he hasn’t actually stopped. He’s still in school, and very intellectual, mind you.

Sometime during his story about what a bitch his classic literature professor is, Anne catches sight of Gilbert over his shoulder, wading his way back to their bar table through the tufts of people in conversation, with drinks, and the look she sends him she hopes he receives as “help me”. She gestures to Roy, subtly, and Gilbert nods, his face turning to grim stone.

“Hey, darling,” he says in greeting, setting their drinks down and leans towards her. They never practiced this. The closest they ever got was Anne missing his cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth at graduation. Still, she tries her best to make it look natural as she leans in and kisses Gilbert in greeting.

His lips are soft and part, slightly, as soon as she meets them. All she wants to do is get closer to him.

Roy’s rambling stutters and dies, and Anne pulls away to get a look at his face. He’s gaping at them.

“Uh, Gilbert, this is Roy Gardner.” Anne says, avoiding eye contact with both of them. “We were friends in Freshmen year.”

Roy clears his throat and thrusts his hand towards Gilbert, obviously trying to maintain some sort of control over the situation. She can see how he’s dying to bring up that they weren’t just friends, and, _ just FYI, I did stick my cock inside her on a weekly basis, didn’t you know? _ Anne plows on, unwilling to let that happen.

“Roy, this is my husband, Gilbert.” She grins. 

“Husband?” Roy repeats back, now utterly frozen. 

“Mm, we were married in February, I think?” Gilbert says, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close, pointedly ignoring Roy’s still outstretched hand.

“Yeah, February. Five months.” She places her hand over the hand on her waist and grins at him. “Gosh it feels like ages ago.”

Gilbert grins back, and presses that grin to her hair, saying, “Well, we’re not an old married couple yet.”

Anne begins, “Roy was just telling me about-“

“Actually,” he interrupts, looking half-ill, half-bored, “I should _ really _ get going.”

“But you just got here?” Anne says, leaving a pause afterwards, where, if she didn’t want him to go away with every fibre of her being, she’d ask him to stay. 

“Ah, well, you know, time moves so quickly.” Roy laughs, and taps his watch. Anne remembers that watch. It was his grandfather’s, or so he’d told her about a thousand times. She thought it was quite romantic the first time he told that story, the thousandth she was just glad for the white noise. “And I’m meeting up with this girl at a bar a few streets from here, so I’d better get going.” 

“Oh, well, it was lovely to see you, Roy.” She says, and waves him off as he retreats. “Don’t be a stranger!”

Gilbert releases her the moment Roy’s out of sight. “A friend?” He asks, seriously, settling into a seat at the bar table.

“Eh,” she waves her hand, dismissively, and joins him at the table, glad for the respite from standing in those heels. “We had sex a bunch in Freshman year because I was lonely and he’s a dickwad who liked getting regular action.”

“Lonely?” Gilbert asks, taking a swig of his beer. “But we hung out tonnes in Freshman year.”

“Yeah, with Josie attached to your lips like a facehugger. You were barely there.” He gives her an apologetic look, which she avoids by drinking more of her beer. She’s probably going too fast, but right now she needs it. “I improvised, and honestly? Bad move on my part. He is toxic and the minute I made myself unavailable to him, he lost interest.” 

He raises his eyebrows in understanding, “Ah, I see; you used me.” 

“Part of the rules state we’re allowed to use the marriage for convenience.” Anne replies, flicking a stray peanut off the table and onto the floor. 

“Yeah, but that’s like free desserts when we tell them it’s our anniversary,” he points out, using the hand he’s holding his beer bottle in to gesture. “If you told me you had a jealous and stupid ex out there, running loose, and that you’d like to use the marriage to avoid him, I would have understood. But frankly keeping me in the dark on that was crummy.” 

“Sorry,” and she kind of means it for a second, before her brain gets mean again, “next time I’ll air out all my dirty laundry for you, shall I?” 

“Anne.” Gilbert says, a sigh in his tone.

Anne goes to sip at her beer again, only to find the bottle empty. She doesn’t recall finishing it. She puts the bottle back down and crosses her arms over her chest, defensively, “Excuse me while I try to cope with that and still be presentable for Jane.”

She feels him touch her hand and tries not to flinch away, months of practice wasted in a moment. “Do you want another beer?” Gilbert asks her, softly, even though he definitely knows that’s a bad idea. Somehow he must still trust her judgement. 

“Yeah.” Anne replies.

~

She gets five more beers. And then a round of shots. Gilbert gets the second round of shots. They forget to text Jane that they’re not going to make it to dinner, because they get incredibly busy playing a drinking version of two truths and a lie. It’s pretty hard because they’ve known each other for most of their lives. 

Anne stumbles to the bathroom after giving Gilbert her last shot, but when she turns to close and lock the bathroom door, Gilbert’s standing on the other side of the doorway, looking like a little lost duckling. Anne isn’t sure if he’s drunk as much as her, but he’s swaying like a tree in a storm.

The lighting in the bathroom is barely anything - mood lighting, maybe, Diana once explained mood lighting to Anne and Anne thought it was a really stupid concept - but he still looks gorgeous. He always looks gorgeous. She’s already kissed him tonight. Barely anything to go on. Anne wants to kiss him so much more. 

Still she’s haunted. 

_ You really can’t help but be in control, can you? _

It’s a relief that he reaches for her first.

Gilbert kicks the door shut behind him, and then immediately lifts her up onto the vanity, by the sink. The first touch of her lips to hers is suffocating at the same time as the first breath of oxygen in too long. Then she tilts her head, cups his cheek, and it’s hot and wet and he is not near enough. 

Anne’s never been sure she likes kissing before, but the more he kisses her, the more she wonders whether she likes kissing in general or if she just likes kissing Gilbert Blythe.

Gilbert Cuthbert Blythe. Her husband. If she just let go of pretense for a second, he could be hers, _he could be all hers- _

He pushes apart her legs and all thoughts fly out of her head, except the echo of Roy’s words in her brain. Her fingernails scratch up his neck into his hair, along his scalp, and he can’t be close enough but she can’t push him, she mustn’t, it’d be wrong.

“Tell me to stop,” she breathes when he breaks away to kiss her neck. It tickles, she half wants to push him away.

“Hmm?” He hums into her skin, in confusion. 

“Tell me no.” Anne has no idea why he’s kissing her. Probably out of pity. She’s never had a great love of her life like he has, she’s only had mediocre sex with a man who couldn’t care less about her, unless he’s listing her faults. Gilbert’s probably just trying to make her feel better.

“What?” Gilbert resurfaces, but when she goes to kiss him again, he stops her. “Anne, what are you talking about?” 

His mouth still tastes like vodka, but he sounds perfectly sober for a moment. 

“I-” she stumbles over her words, forgetting, momentarily, why she said that. “I’m-.” 

“We should go home.” 

And they do. 

And when Anne wakes up the next morning, her head pounding, her phone full of worried messages from Jane, she prays he won’t remember. 

Gilbert doesn’t say anything about it, so Anne doesn’t say anything, either.

~ 

By the time Diana’s baby shower rolls around, Gilbert’s got a job at the Avonlea elementary school. Anne’s still doing interviews with Redmond College, but Gilbert assures her with every day that goes by that she’s sure to get the position.

For some reason, it never crossed her mind that maybe one day Diana would be pregnant. Now it’s all too clear. Anne’s been staying in Avonlea more and more often. She and Gilbert are in the talks to sell their Charlottetown apartment and move fully into their Avonlea home, especially since Gilbert’s working in town, full time. It means she sees Diana far more than she used to, and also means she’s watched the progress of Diana’s pregnancy.

She was even in parts of the maternity shoot.

Now she’s sipping punch in front of the snack table and taking a quick breather from all the social interaction she’s been subjected to in the last hour or so. She didn’t get much sleep last night, stressing about a very certain answer she gave in a phone interview. She stressed until Gilbert coaxed her into bed and held her in his arms until she fell asleep. 

They still haven’t talked about making out at that bar. At this point, Anne assumes he’s a more forgetful drunk than she thought he was.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Hey,” Anne responds, turning towards him. “Nice party, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking a touch confused, but otherwise quite serene. “Totally killer. When can we leave?”

She laughs. “Not for another hour. We’re here for Diana, and as the baby’s future godmother, I’ve got to start setting good examples.”

“The baby isn’t here to see them, though,” Gilbert sighs, leaning on the edge of the snack table, bumping her elbow with his. “Surely you could play hooky just this once. I _ know _ you never did in school.” 

“Gilbert, if you want to go home that’s okay, you should,” Anne sighs. She sips her punch, watching the celebrations from afar. Diana’s mother wasn’t exactly pleased with her plans to become a single mother, but she was supportive the whole way through, which is something. “I’ll get a ride home with someone else, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Gilbert groans in frustration, turning to her and saying, “I don’t want to go home without-”

“Anne and Gilbert!” A new voice cuts him off, and they turn to find a little old lady grinning at them. She looks vaguely familiar, but Anne can’t bring a name to mind for the life of her. “How lovely to see you. How long’s it been?”

Gilbert gives her a look that says _ I have no idea who this woman is _which Anne just shrugs at. It’s much easier to just indulge the older people instead of succumbing to confusion. “Who knows? So many events lately, hard to keep track.”

The old lady grins wider. “So nice to see Diana’s life so put together. She really knows where she’s going, doesn’t she?” She reaches past Anne for a scone, giving Gilbert enough time to mouth _ what the fuck? _at Anne before the old lady is back, smiling at them. “I wonder, when was it you two were going to start having children?” 

Anne’s stomach drops like she’s on a rollercoaster. Gilbert must see her go pale, or her expression must fail or something, because he immediately jumps in to diffuse the conversation. “Anne’s gonna be working at Redmond college, soon, you know?”

“You’re not having children yet? But you’re both so successful already.” Her vision is swimming, but her hearing is fine apparently, because fuck Anne, you know? “At your age, I already had my two.”

This was an uncounted variable. This never occurred to Anne, that people might expect them to have kids. That’s far too far to go for this lie. And yet - sure this is one old woman, but with Diana setting the precedent, and Ruby also settling into married life - the expectation is set into motion. If they keep this up much longer people will wonder.

“Actually, I was just about to take Gilbert home.” Anne cuts in, softly, grabbing his bicep. “You know he’s been working full time at the Avonlea elementary school? He’s tired all the time. Barely any time for just us. Excuse us.”

She pulls him through the crowd, barely having time to say her goodbyes and put on her jacket, but the next thing she knows, they’re standing in the snow outside the car and Gilbert’s trying to take the keys from her. 

“Anne, you’re not in a fit state to drive.” He says, and pushes her towards the passenger side door. Anne gets in willingly, still in a daze, and GIlbert turns the key in the ignition, starting up the heating, but he doesn’t drive. He just sits. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I’m just-” She stares at her hands for a second. They never exchanged rings, never felt the need to, just one more expense in this lie. It’s gone on long enough. “I think this has to end.” 

Gilbert suddenly turns to her, a look of confusion on his face, a tinge of dismay in his eyes. “What?”

“I just mean I think it’s run its course.” Anne responds. She sounds exhausted, even to her own ears. “It did what it needed to do, don’t you think?”

“Anne, are you serious?” His hands are slack in his lap, and he’s inclined towards him. Anne scarcely looks up at his face, again, afraid of what she’ll see.

“Did you even hear what she said? Kids, Gilbert. _ Babies _. That’s what people are going to start expecting of us.” Anne stares down at her own hands, the car warming up around them. She just wants this to be over. She’s so tired of lying. “You get that don’t you?”

Gilbert’s breath hitches like he wants to say something but then he pauses. “Yeah…”

“There’s only so far I’m willing to go.”

“Of course, and I’d never ask you to-” 

She cuts him off sharply, saying. “I can’t do this anymore, Gilbert.” 

The look on his face is far from accepting, but his tone implies differently. “I get that.”

“I just - I don’t - we had a good run, didn’t we?” Her breath hitches, and she reigns in her breaths, aware of how she feels close to tears. When she speaks again, it’s quieter, “We were believable, right? People thought we were in love?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Gilbert sounds sad, sadder than he can hide. For his dignity, she pretends she can’t hear it. “I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves, why don’t we?” 

“If we kept on like this people would get suspicious. They - they think that we should start having _ kids.” _

“Anne, she _ was _ an old woman.” HIs hands are clenched around the steering wheel, even though they aren’t moving.

“I refuse to give that much of myself over to this lie. I’m twenty-one, and_ this isn’t real. _ ” Anne’s trying so hard to get that into her head. Everything they did, every lie they told, every intimate touch was an act, and now they can let it go. “I’m _ not _ having a child to fulfill their outdated expectations of marriage.” 

“Anne.” Just like that, she calms. God, she’s going to miss him. “I’m okay if you want to end this. I understand, completely. But if this is just because of the baby thing, if that’s what’s freaking you out, you don’t have to worry. No one is going to make you do that. Not me, not anyone. That is your choice, and I would never ask you to do that for me. That’s too far.”

Anne swallows at the lump in her throat. “I know, I know you’d never, you _ wouldn’t _, but I just, I can’t do this-” 

“This doesn’t have to end,” Gilbert says, tone edging on desperation. “I just want you to know that. _ This does not have to end.” _

“Gilbert.” She reaches and places her hand on his, where it’s still resting on the steering wheel. “I appreciate it. But it’s time we call it quits. You know that as well as I do.”

He breathes heavily in the silence for a moment, before he quietly says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Anne echoes. They sit in silence for a moment. She pulls back her hand. “So we’re agreed? We’re getting a divorce?”

“Anne, where will you live?” Gilbert asks her.

"I’ll go back to Green Gables.” She replies, easily. “It’s closer to Redmond, anyway, and I can take care of Marilla.” 

“When?” 

“As soon as we can.” 

(They don’t say anything else as they drive back to their house - his house, now. She’s just squatting. They fight over who gets to sleep on the couch for the night, but Anne wins out. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss him in the night, and that doesn’t mean she waits for him to appear in the doorway and usher her to bed like he had when he’d been drunk after Ruby’s wedding. But Gilbert stays elusive. He must be stronger than she thought.) 

(They sleep apart for the first time in nine months.) 

~ 

He helps her move her stuff back to Green Gables. Marilla watches on with barely concealed judgement. 

Anne manages to avoid it for about three days after she moves back in, due to more Redmond drama. She’s beginning to think it’s not worth it.

Gilbert calls when he sells the Charlottetown apartment, and after two weeks of nearly no contact, she goes with him to Charlottetown to move their stuff out, completely.

When he picks her up from Green Gables, she sees he’s shorn the sides of his head short, the hair on top shorter as well, but curling and floppy. The sight really reminds her that this is ending. He isn’t hers by any means and she made sure if that.

After that, they don’t speak again for another couple of weeks.

“I miss that Blythe boy,” Marilla says one morning while Anne’s waking up to a cup of coffee. “When are we seeing him again?”

“We’re doing divorce proceedings in three weeks.” Anne says, nonchalantly. “Maybe we can do dinner here after?”

Marilla looks unimpressed with this suggestion, but gives her approval all the same. 

Anne spends the day with Diana just to avoid her. 

~ 

Diana goes into labour while she’s around with Josie at Green Gables. Josie speeds them to hospital, and they have to wait five agonising hours before her mother can make it to the hospital from Quebec. Then they’re ushered out by Mrs Barry and left to sit in the waiting room together. 

“Do you want some coffee?” Josie asks her, looking exhausted but bright. Anne’s never realised how unceasingly optimistic Josie is. Maybe it’s because when she was younger, when she was growing up she was so mean to everyone. Maybe finally not having to worry about another human person has freed her to care for herself enough to be sweet. 

“Yeah,” Anne replies, and follows Josie, tiredly, into the cafeteria.

She’s leaning on a vending machine that Josie’s giving a scrutinising look, holding their coffees and resting her eyes, when Josie asks, “Where’s Gilbert, by the way?”

Anne slumps, her eyes opening. “Huh?”

“I just mean I haven’t seen him around in a while.” She shrugs, and manages to get a packet of chips from the machine. “And Marilla said you were staying at Green Gables, again.”

Anne shakes her head and they begin their trek back to the waiting room. “We’re, uh, we’re getting a divorce. It’s over.”

Josie stops, frowning. “What?”

“It’s kind of straightforward, Josie.” She says, tiredly. “We mutually decided it was fine to end it." 

“Are you serious? Anne, what the hell?” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re serious. Oh my god.”

“It wasn’t serious, Josie. It doesn’t have to be a big deal now that it’s finished.”

They sit in silence for a bit. Josie drinks her coffee and eats a few of her chips with a thoughtful look on her face. Anne listens out for Diana, continually checking her phone occasionally, only to be greeted by an empty lock screen.

Josie’s short intake of breath is the only precursor to her saying, “It’s okay, you know?”

Anne turns to her, brow furrowed, “What’s okay?” 

“That you love him.” Anne opens her mouth to protest, surprised and outraged that Josie would say something so blatantly untrue. Josie cuts her off all the same. “And I _ know _ you do, so don’t fight me on this. I know how it feels to love him. My problem was I was always scared it was going to end again. I didn’t love him _ enough _ to trust him like you did.”

“I was just being a good friend,” Anne says, face red, mind racing. She _ doesn’t _ love Gilbert Blythe, she _ can’t _. 

“And _ I _ was being a shit girlfriend,” Josie asserts, laughing a little. There’s a little pain in her voice, in her expression, but it’s long since buried, just a memory, a phantom pain. “We were never going to work out. I’d seen it end too many times to think otherwise.” She squares her shoulders and looks at Anne, a half smile on her face. “But, _ Anne _ . You love him, I can see it. And I have _ no idea _ why you’re letting him go.”

“I _ don’t _ love him.” Anne says, gruffly.

“Yes you do,” Josie says, rolling her eyes as though Anne is a stubborn child. “I don’t know _ how _ you can’t see it, but you’ve gotta believe me on this.”

“I don’t love him,” she insists, suddenly desperate for it not to be true, “I can’t. I…”

Josie nods to her, mutely as Anne thinks on it. She _ does _ love him, doesn’t she? Why else would she go out of her way to buy him that sandwich he’d been craving? Why else would she tuck him into bed and hold him close when he asked? Why else would she smile and laugh when he danced so seriously with a child at Ruby’s wedding reception? Why else would she be so heartbroken over the end of this relationship?

“Oh god.” Anne says and puts her face in her hands. She’s an idiot.

“Why are you letting him go?” Josie asks, putting a hand on Anne’s shoulder and squeezing it, reassuringly.

“Because it wasn’t _ real _ .” Her voice cracks, she sounds like she’s sobbing. “And _ he _ doesn’t love me _ back _. I don’t want to keep him trapped anymore. He deserves to be with someone he loves.”

The squeezing of her shoulder stops short. “You think he doesn’t love you?” Josie asks, quietly.

“That’s different.” Anne says, sniffing as she wipes at her face, unwilling to let herself break down over this.

“Different from what exactly?” Anne looks at her. Josie rolls her eyes and hands Anne her bag of chips which are half eaten. “I had no idea you were both this stubborn. I thought you’d get over it once you were both adults but everything’s still a competition to you, isn’t it?”

Anne nods a little, mouth full of chips.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell him how you feel.” She smiles a little tightly, and pulls Anne into her arms. “At least then you’ll know you kept the air clear.” 

Ever considering Josie as anything less than a good friend was a mistake on Anne’s part and not one she intends to make again. Now all that’s left is cleaning up everything with Gilbert. _ God _, she’s doomed.

~ 

He’s standing outside the building they won back his house in. He’s wearing a blue scarf, a beanie to match hiding his shorter hair, and is holding two take-away coffee cups.

Anne kind of wants to cry. She shouldn’t have worn makeup. Gilbert looks up as she approaches and Anne watches the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment before his expression falls into blankness once more.

He’s breaking her heart and he hasn’t even done anything.

Gilbert hands her one of the coffee cups when she reaches him, and says, “Two sugars, splash of milk.” Anne has to bite back a comment of you remembered. Of course he remembered, he’s her soon-to-be ex-husband. If he didn’t remember what kind of a husband would he be? 

“You okay?” He asks, quietly, expression going a little worried. 

Anne rushes to reassure him, “Oh yeah, I am fine.” Her tone is so obviously false. She’s sure he heard it. “Just fine.”

Gilbert nods to her, sombrely. “How’s Diana? And, god, I can’t remember-“

“Cordelia,” Anne says, quietly. Diana had said the name had grown on her. Cordelia has Diana’s dark hair, already, and her beautiful smile, when she’s not screaming. Anne’s only visited a few times since the birth, but Josie and Ruby have both been helping out.

“Right. Cordelia Barry.” Gilbert says it like he’s sounding it out. He smiles. Anne wonders, briefly, what if he’d asked Diana to marry him instead of Anne? Maybe they’d have actually fallen in love. Maybe Anne never would have loved him like this. “Good name.” 

“It is,” Anne agrees, quietly.

Silence falls. They sip their coffees. Anne’s less than silent, her mind is screaming at her to _ say something, _ say anything. She can’t leave it all like this, even after all she said. She loves him, she loves him, _ she loves him. _

Gilbert tosses his empty cup into a nearby bin and gives her a small, hesitant smile. “Shall we?”

And with that it’s all ending. Anne has to say something.

“Gilbert,” he turns to look at her. He’s halfway towards the entrance of his lawyer’s building. “Can you just hang on?”

He frowns, suddenly worried, and what she wouldn’t do to smooth that look from his face. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I mean no.” She shakes her head, wishing she’d thought out more clearly how she was going to say all this. “I mean, _ everything’s _ wrong; what I did, what I said - _ I’m _ wrong.” Anne sighs. Gilbert looks beyond confused. “ _ I _ was wrong about _ everything _. It took me too long to figure it out, but I know now that I’d do anything for you. And I was scared, but I don’t actually want this to end. I’ve never felt closer to you before, never actually felt that your heart belonged to me. But for a few moments it did. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that you have my heart. Even if you don’t want it.” 

He’s just standing there, staring at her. For all the time she spent with him, she honestly can’t read his expression, other than shock. Still, Anne plies on, never one to leave a speech unfinished, even one as cobbled together as this one. “Gilbert, I love you. Not just as a friend. I really, truly love you.” He inhales sharply, and she tries not to flinch. “And I won’t stop you from ending this anyway - I wouldn’t blame you, given the kind of wife I’ve been to you, but if you’d have me, I’d like to remain your wife for a bit.” 

“Anne,” she can’t even look at him to gage his reaction, but he sounds breathless, sounds surprised and frozen.

“I’m so sorry this had to come out now,” Anne continues, “but the truth is I didn’t even fully recognise it until I was about to lose it - lose _ you _.”

Suddenly, she sees him in front of her, and he takes her hand. Anne looks up on impulse, meeting his open, tender eyes, “You love me?”

“Of course I do.” Anne tries not to sound exasperated at the question. “I’d be an idiot _ not _ to love you.” 

“Anne,” Gilbert says again, half a laugh in his tone, his lips spreading into a smile across his face.

“Gilbert,” she responds, almost a question.

He raises their intertwined hands between them, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, and says, happily, “I love you, too.”

“Oh,” and she feels like crying all over again, because it simply can’t be possible, “you do?”

Gilbert snorts, and gives her what she supposes he meant to be a roguish grin, but in his happiness morphed back into an overjoyed smile. “I’d be an idiot _ not _ to, Anne-Girl,” he tells her, oh so matter-of-factly. 

“Oh thank god,” Anne says, dropping her coffee on the ground and throwing herself into his arms.

When he kisses her it’s soft and it’s slow, and she can tell he’s grinning, can feel it. She knows he’s overjoyed, because she is too. She doesn’t want to stop kissing him, Gilbert, her husband, who loves her despite everything.

(Needless to say they leave that day without getting a divorce.)

~

Navigating a real relationship is a lot messier than navigating a fake one. All the same, there’s nothing Anne regrets about it.

It means that when she wakes up in Gilbert’s arms, longing to kiss him awake, she can, and when he stirs from sleep he looks just so pleased to see her. It means they go on real dates, and flirt for real. It means she joins him in those showers when they’re strategising how to survive social events. It means she does join him for lunch some days, when she’s got the time, now that she’s working full time at Redmond. 

It means that Anne gets to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him as much as she wants. She’s so selfish with him, and he’s just the same.

Josie’s pleases for them, and Anne can’t even meet Marilla’s smug look when she’s tells her, knowing it’ll just read _ I told you so _. They can’t tell anyone else of this revelation, of course, since everyone thought they were in love before they were. It’s almost easier not to say.

Anne never realised how great being married to Gilbert would be, until she’s sitting on the couch with him, watching something mindless, and all he’s doing is holding her, but it’s enough to make her shudder with the love she feels for him.

(Gilbert buys her a ring six months after the almost-divorce, and Anne tackles him to the floor, laughing, saying, “Yes, a thousand times, yes.” He says this proposal is much better than the first. She agrees in the form of kissing him until his lips are swollen and his pupils are blown wide.)

Being married to Gilbert is so much easier now that she’s allowed to be his wife.

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed this. If you liked this, please leave me a comment detailing what you liked, and also a kudos, if you'd be so kind. Hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee and you'll get notifications when I post fic and also funny memes. Once again, thanks very much for reading :)


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